


It's a Jungle Out There

by Blueberrychills94



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Bullying, Depression, Discrimination, Eating Disorders, F/M, High School AU, Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Other, Self Harm, Suicide, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:06:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 65,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberrychills94/pseuds/Blueberrychills94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"First things first, I did not try to kill myself."</p><p>Katniss' life seems perfect. Captain of the Cheerleading Squad, amazing grades, a gorgeous boyfriend (sort of) and a bright future. However, one day everything seems to fall apart as she discovers that she is flunking math and will have to repeat the course if she doesn't pass.  That night she is found unconscious in her bathroom surrounded by a pills and soaked with tap water.</p><p>Treated like a bomb about to go off, nobody believing her when she says it's all a misunderstanding, Katniss struggles to maintain her top ranking status. To top it all off, the boy tutoring her math-Peeta Mellark, a boy she has bullied for most of her life-is causing her to see and feel things she doesn't understand in relation to the life she has been leading her whole teenage life. </p><p>In the animal kingdom, only the strongest survive, but who will come out on top?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Straightening Priorities

Chapter One

First things first, I did not try to kill myself.

I know how it looked, I know how people thought that it looked, but if you understood the circumstances then you'd realize that it all really was just a misunderstanding. A great, big, steaming pile of misunderstanding.

I'll back up a little, to the day before the alleged 'suicide'. It started off as any day does, in Registration Class listening to Mrs. Trinket ramble on and on about the student targets for the day. Every day it's something new. Tidy uniform; get to class on time; respect teachers; no fighting, etc. It's basically just regurgitating the school rules, as if we'd forget what they are.

"And that's why it's important to understand why homework is given, and why it should be handed in on time . . ." Three missed homework's equaled an after school detention, however I never worried about this. To keep up my Grade A average I have never missed a homework. If I want to be accepted into college then I need to keep my grades up. However, I am still teetering precariously on the edge of falling into my third missed homework. All for the one subject: math. Why was math even necessary? I can add, subtract, multiply and divide, isn't that enough?

Glimmer leans over the space between our desks and whispers, "Are you getting any of this?"

"Not a word," I whisper back.

"I suppose it's just as well," Glimmer replies. Her golden hair slips over her shoulders and shielded her face, hiding the fact that she was talking from Mrs. Trinket "Besides, no one listening to Trinket except the nerds."

I snorted. "True."

A paper airplane clips the side of my ear. I yelp in surprise and glance at Mrs. Trinket, who was too busy outlining how homework shapes the successors of tomorrow to notice. I lean over and picked it up of the floor where it landed, unfolding the paper carefully so it doesn't rustle or crinkle too loudly.

U cumin' 2 cheerleading after skul?

~Clove

I close the paper up in my fist and drop my hand below my seat so Clove can see it a few seats behind. I give her a thumbs up, keeping my eyes locked on Mrs. Trinket so she doesn't suspect anything. Her passionate rant was reaching its end, the signs evident by the fact that she was slowly making her way back to her desk to call the role. Most classes have the ten minutes of registration class to chat and catch up. Not us, oh no, not us. We're forced to listen to the daily pile of Horse Shit, supplied by the mouth of Mrs. Trinket. Homework shapes the successors of tomorrow? Please.

"Katniss?"

"Here!" I call. The role call is completely tedious to listen to. I wish we had one of those electronic registers. It would make everything so much simpler. The District is so behind when it comes to technology. The Capitol Grammar School uses ipads instead of books. Ipads! Why can't we have ipads? Oh wait, that's right, Principal Undersee spend last year's school fees on curtains for the stage. Curtains. They weren't even the right bloody colour!

The bell drives through my ears like the screech of a banshee. There isn't relief in release as once I have pushed away from my desk, I remember that today is double math in the morning day. I groan and smack my forehead with the heel of my head. What is it we're even doing now? Algebra? Wait, or is it that Pythagoras stuff?

"It's Trig, Katniss, we're doing Trig," Clove snickers. I lean against the locker beside hers, waiting for her to retrieve her books from inside. My own math textbook is clutched in my arms, weighing at least a ton. There are over 500 pages in the damn things. How could there be so much for just one subject? An infinite amount of numbers? More like an infinite amount of pages!

"Trig? Is that the triangle stuff?" I ask.

"Nope, that's Pythagoras," Glimmer grins.

"Oh man, that's not a good sign," Clove laughs.

She's right. It isn't. Oh well, I don't need math where I'm going. All I need is to pass most of my other subjects to get into College and then focus all my attention on becoming an actress. Or a singer. I haven't decided yet. One thing's for sure, it's going to be big.

Gale Hawthorne passes us and I straighten up. He's with the usual suspects; the rest of the football team. He smiles at me and my insides heat up in excitement. I return it, maybe I little too enthusiastically, and brush the stray hairs back away from my face. When he's completely passed, Glimmer and Clove squeal.

"Oh my god, he was totally checking you out!" Glimmer gushes.

"You think so?" I reply, staring after Gale in longing. Gale and I have been exchanging looks and signals ever since school began in fall. Now summer was rapidly approaching and I am holding out for him to ask me to go to Prom with him.

"Mmm-hmm," Clove confirms. "You lucky duck."

"He's soooooo hot!" Glimmer sighs, twiddling her hair while staring after the football team, like every other student in the hall. District High practically worships the ground the football team walks on and I don't blame them. They're Gods among humans, that's all there is to it. I'm blessed to be deemed worthy enough to cheer for them.

"You think he'll ask me to Prom?" I ask.

"He'd be an idiot not too!" Glimmer laughs.

I flick my braid over my shoulder and grin. "I know," I say. "Let's just hope he realizes that too." The second bell rings and dread fills me like a disease. "Well, it's time to enter the gates of hell."

"May God have mercy on us," Clove sighs, slamming her locker shut with a flourish. "We're going to need it."

~IAJOT~

"Katniss, you're failing Math."

I snort. This isn't fair. I've done my time, I should be released out into the glorious arms of break. Why is Mr. Abernathy wasting his time telling me things I already know? "Tell me something I don't know," I say.

Mr. Abernathy leans back in his chair and takes a drink from his metal flask. It's no secret that there's Vodka in there but no one would dare point it out. Especially since the school's grade average for math has soared to 95% A*-C ever since Mr. Abernathy started teaching the subject. "I don't think you fully appreciate how dire an issue this is," he says.

"Dire? It's Math," I say flatly. "I won't be needing it anyway."

Mr. Abernathy narrows his eyes. "Katniss, you do realize that most schools won't accept you if you have an F in Math? Unless, of course, you're willing to re-sit it in College, which would require learning the whole course all over again."

"What?! You're not serious!" I exclaim.

"I'm always serious, Katniss."

"But . . . but that's . . . that's . . . what?!"

"Math is an essential topic, just like English and Science," says Mr. Abernathy. "If you don't pass this exam in June then you'll most definitely have to take the course again in College."

"That's not fair!" I know how childish this sounds but it's the only thought that comes into my head. Besides, I think I deserve to be petulant. Why couldn't someone have informed me of this earlier in the year? So, you know, I had more time to prepare. "I can't pass! My chances of passing are as common as pink Ostriches flying to the moon!"

Mr. Abernathy chuckles at this and I scowl. The bastard is finding this amusing! "I know it may seem impossible, Katniss, but if you put in a little extra work, maybe get a tutor"-

"I can't afford a tutor," I scoff. "My allowance is already taken with more important matters. Like my new cheerleading uniform."

"There's a school tutoring program. No charge. I can assign someone to you," Mr. Abernathy explains.

"One of those nerds? No thanks." I think of the outcasts who sit at the table by the bins in the canteen at lunch. Those losers wouldn't know what it takes to be cool if the whole cheerleading squad and the football team sat down with them and gave them a crash course in it. I wasn't going to be seen with one of them.

"Do you want to pass, Katniss?"

"Obviously," I mutter.

"Then I'll assign you a tutor." Mr. Abernathy pulls a sheet out of his desk drawer and scans it with squinted eyes. "There's only one tutor in the field of math."

"Let me guess, someone from Loser's End?" I deadpan.

Ignoring the comment, Mr. Abernathy signs my name beside said Geek's name. I snatch the paper off him and stare at it. All the nerds are on this list.

Johanna Mason: Physics.

Annie Cresta: English Literature.

Finch Hannigan: Biology.

Then there's my name. Beside Math.

Oh my God.

~IAJOT~

"Peeta Mellark?!" Glimmer exclaims. "As in fatboy Mellark?!"

"The very one." I groan and throw my head into my arms. My lunch sits on the table, isolated and uneaten. The last thing on my mind right now is eating. "I can't believe this. I can't bloody believe this. I should just quit now, while I'm ahead, focus on my music or something."

"I can't believe you have to be tutored by fatboy Mellark," Clove says. I lift my head and shoot a scowl at Loser's End, where all the nerds sit eating their packed lunches. Fatboy isn't there, probably in the queue for his lunch. He always buys his lunch, greedy bastard.

Okay, I'll admit, Mellark isn't fat. He used to be fat, that's the point. Back in third grade he ate too many cupcakes or whatever and was a tubby blob with pink cheeks and yellow hair. However, the summer before Junior year he lost a ton of weight and came in looking like a completely different person. I think it took a week for anyone to actually realize who he was. The nickname of 'fatboy' just sort of stuck, I suppose.

Mellark is actually quite attractive. When he lost the weight, he had the option between flaunting it and staying in the shadows with his geeky friends. He chose his friends. I suppose this is viewed as noble or whatever but I don't see it. I think it was stupid. Now he's forever branded a nerd. He wears this thick rimmed black glasses and everything. One a nerd, always a nerd, I suppose.

"Try and look on the bright side. Mellark passed his Math exams with the highest grades in the country," Glimmer says, trying to be helpful. "He's probably going to pass this last one as well. And you will too."

"He has to sign this," I say, pulling the permission slip out of my jeans pocket and slapping it on the table. "Can you believe it? I actually have to approach him. Everyone's going to see me with him!"

"I'll admit, it will dent your rep," Clove agreed. "But you can't fail Math. Not now when we're so close to ditching it for good."

I know she's right. They're both right.

Mellark appears and sits with his friends, completely nonplussed to the knowledge that he must perform a miracle and help me pass Math. I might as well get it over with now, since everyone is going to see me with him anyway so if I make it clear what the parameters of the encounters are in front of everyone now then they will understand that the interaction is not my choice.

I get up and reluctantly make my way over to Loser's end. I can already feel eyes on me, people wondering why I am going towards these geeks. Maybe they think a brawl is coming. By the time I stand by their table, you could hear a pin drop it's that quiet.

Johanna is the first to see me. The thing about Johanna is that she has bi-polar and can't control her emotions. If I were to beat that anyone would defend the others, it would be her. "What do you want, Princess?" she sneers at me.

"From you? Nothing," I say sourly. I turn to Mellark and wave the slip under his nose. "You have to sign this."

Mellark takes the slip and lifts his glasses to read what's on it. Johanna smolders at me and I give her a dirty look in return. "You want me to tutor you?" He looks at me incredulously, letting his glasses fall back onto his nose.

"I don't want you to, I'm being forced," I say, making this clear.

"Don't do it Peeta, let her flunk," Johanna hisses.

"Will you shut up, Mason?" I snap.

"Mr. Abernathy's signature is on this," Mellark sighs. "No choice, tragically."

What's his problem? He should be honoured to be given the opportunity to spend time with me. It might do him a favour, boost his own rep a little. Although, judging by the huge Algebra book and the notepad sitting beside his lunch, this is unlikely. "Can you just sign it already?" I ask in exasperation.

Mellark reluctantly signs his name onto the slip. "Meet me in the library after school," he says.

"After school? I can't. I've got cheerleading."

Johanna snorts and the other two girls snicker.

Mellark's blue eyes burn into me as he tries to decipher whether I'm being serious or not. "Do you want to pass?"

"Duh." I roll my eyes. "How about tomorrow?"

Mellark mirrors my sarcastic action by rolling his eyes. "Whatever."

Anger fills me up and I grind my teeth together. "Might want to ease off the fries, I'm already seeing the flab again." I spin on my heel and march away.

"Bitch!" Johanna yells after me. Her anger makes me smile. I half expect her to come after me but she doesn't. She must know that Clove would be on her like a ton of bricks if she did.

Urgh, I'm already tired of this and it hasn't even started.


	2. Taking the Plunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss goes to her first tutoring lesson with Peeta but is distracted as her mind is on other things. Such as how she's going to get Gale to go out with her and what the best routine for the Homecoming Game is. However, when a cheerleading injury poses a problem, she's about to get a lesson she'll never forget.

Chapter Two

"I can't help but point out that if Fatboy goes anorexic, it's going to be your fault."

I roll my eyes and stretch forward to touch my toes. The sun beats down on the football fields like a god trying to burn the ants beneath its feet. Sweat has already appeared on my brow and we haven't even started practicing yet. The warm ups are getting more and more tedious every year.

Clove watches me with folded arms, her feet shoulder width apart. She's never worried about things like trying to stand like a lady or behave properly, she just does what she likes and if people don't like it, then it's their problem. "Some things you just don't say," she says.

"Do you know how hypocritical you sound right now?" I challenge. "You call him Fatboy, just like the rest of us. Just like Mason is Polar Bear and Annie is Nuts. So what if he goes anorexic anyway? It's not my problem."

"Might do him some good." Glimmer lifts her arms behind her back and pulls, loosening the muscles in her arms.

"Just because vomiting up your food works for you, doesn't mean it works for everyone," says Clove. Glimmer flips her off but I can't help agreeing with Clove. Glimmer's body is only as thin as it now is because she throws up 85% of what she eats. Someday she's going to destroy the lining of her throat and Clove and I are going to have to deal with it.

"Why so defensive Clove? Don't tell me you have a soft spot for the nerds?" I tease. I squint up at Clove from where I sit on the grass, the sun behind her head like a halo.

"Of course not. I just don't want to have to be called into the Principals office to explain how you didn't really mean it when you told Mellark he was getting fat again and that you really didn't mean for him to go anorexic and that you were oh so sorry to hear that that had happened." Clove gives me a dull look. "I'm not that good a liar, Everdeen."

"It won't happen," I scoff. "Mellark doesn't care what I think, why should he stop eating just because one person-namely me, one of the people he probably hates the most-calls him flabby?"

"Whatever." Clove bends over to touch her toes, ignoring the cat calls she receives from the pervs in the stands. Urgh, Cheerleading should be a closed practice. Who studies in the stands anyway? I don't care how nice a day it is, go home to study! The field is a place of pleasure, not academic improvement!

"I wouldn't be surprised if Mellark lost the weight because he stopped eating," Glimmer says, almost to herself. "I mean, one summer? Come on, he was huge!"

"Who cares how he lost it? He's still a loser," I mutter. "He was a nerd then and he's a freak now. Who cares how much he weighs? Just one less thing to poke fun at. And even then it's debateable because we can't think of anything else other than 'fatboy' to call him."

"We could call him doughballs," says Clove. "Or baguette boy."

A chuckle tickles the back of my throat and I grin in amusement. "Or cupcakes."

We laugh at our own cleverness. I stand up and dust my skirt down. "Why are we even fixating on this? We need to get our shit together and practice!"

The squad practice for an hour and a half. I show them new moves I've been working on all summer and we all agree that it's in the team's best interests to include them in the routine at the next game. There's a slight glitch when I go over on my ankle and it screams for the rest of practice to be given a rest.

I'm cursed with a limp for the rest of the day. It's worse by the next day and I hobble around school like I've got a wooden leg. I take the biggest dosage of pills I can without endangering myself and keep a small orange bottle of painkillers in my blazer pocket to take whenever I can.

"You're walking like the Hunchback," Glimmer snickers.

"You try walking with a sprained ankle," I reply.

"I'd ask for a cast so I could bejazzle it," Glimmer replies.

Clove rolls her eyes. "And what a bloody sight that would be. You'd be able to see you coming from miles off. 'Watch out, here comes Glimmer!'"

"Hey Katniss!"

I stop in the middle of the corridor and turn slowly on my heel. A smile breaks out across my face as Gale jogs up to me and leans against the locker to our right. I turn to Glimmer and Clove and promptly give them a 'Kindly piss of' look. They raise their eyebrows but continue down the corridor, a witch-like cackle soon exploding from their little dual huddle.

"Hi Gale," I reply.

"I heard you hurt your ankle," says Gale. His eyes drift down me and fall on my ankle, which I have lifted off the floor so only the toes of my shoes rest against it. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I just went over on it yesterday at practice," I say, shrugging like it's no big deal.

Gale rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was just wondering . . . well . . . Madge can't go to Cashmere's house party because she's got to go back to Spain cuz' her parents are sick or something. So, I was just wondering if you were going with anyone."

I'm a little irked at the idea that Gale is only asking me out because Madge isn't around. I want to go to Cashmere's party with him-it's going to be one of the best nights of the year-but I don't want him to get me so easily. "I would," I say. "But I can't."

Gale's face falls. His self-assured attitude drops like a rock. "Why not?"

I frantically search my brain for something I can say to make me seem hard to get and cool. "I'm being stalked," I finally blurt out.

Gale quirks one of his perfect eyebrows at me. "What?"

"Yeah," I say, quickly playing it off now that it was out there. "I'm being stalked. I can't go outside because this kid has gotten this idea in his head that I'm his girlfriend and he won't leave me alone."

"Who is it? Does he go to this school?" asks Gale.

I comb my fingers through my hair and lean my back against the lockers, elevating my foot a little bit to ease the pressure. Name. Name. Name. Give him a name. Make up a name, even. Something that seems realistic. But then again my imagination has never been all that good . . . "It's Peeta Mellark," I finally say.

"Fatboy Mellark?" Gale asks.

"Yeah, him," I say, words rushing out now that I have a suitable story. "Remember I went to Loser's End yesterday at lunch? I was telling him to get the hell off my back before I call the cops. He hasn't listened though . . . Still thinks he's my boyfriend."

"God, that kid's a freak," Gale mutters.

I roll my eyes. "Tell me about it." The bell rings and I resist the urge to throw myself off a pit of despair at the realization that I must go to class and listen to Miss Paylor drone on about healthy eating in H.E. Keeping up with the hard to get act, I sigh and shrug. "See you around Gale."

"Yeah, I'll see you Katniss."

I turn my back on Gale without another word and hobble off to the H.E rooms. I can't help smiling. One step closer to having the hottest guy in school as my Prom date.

~IAJOT~

I've never set foot in the library before. Not even for Study Skills classes. Glimmer, Clove and I used to skive off and hide under the bleachers smoking cigarettes and complaining about boys. It's abnormally quiet and stinks of books. I limp into the room and instantly feel like an anomaly. Everyone in the damn place is clearly a swot. They're all hunched over books and writing as if they're never going to write again. I swear, their pens are scratching so fast I'm surprised they're not creating smoke.

Mellark is at the back of the room. Just like the little nerd that he is, he is bent over a book, a hand held out beside his face as if to shield it away from the rest of the world.

"I swear to God Mellark, if I don't pass I'm going to tell Cato to aim the football at your head at the homecoming game," I say, dumping my satchel beside the table and sitting across from him. Mellark doesn't look up. "Because if I have to give up my afternoons then it better be worth it. You know I'm missing an hour of Cheerleading for this?"

"Such a tragedy," Mellark mutters into the pages of his book.

"Will you look at me?" I snap. "For God's sake, if you're going to tutor me then you need to stop making out with that book." Mellark reluctantly looks at me. His hair falls away from his face, revealing a huge black welt sitting under his eye. I can't control the laughter that explodes from me at the sight. "What happened your face?!"

"Gale seems to have gotten the idea that I'm a perverted stalker who thinks I'm your boyfriend," Mellark says.

I bite my lip. Oops.

"You would haven't any idea about that, would you?" asks Mellark.

"Me? What would I know about it?" I scoff.

"Well, you are the person he thinks I'm . . . stalking." Mellark says this as if the idea of stalking me in particular is ridiculous. I know I made it up but it could still be extremely feasible! Who knows what an unstable freak like Mellark or one of his friends could be capable of!

"Oh boo-hoo," I say. "Grow a pair, it's just a bruise."

Mellark rolls his eyes and pushes his hair back when it tries to fall over his eyes again. "Are you going to actually focus today or are you going to keep being a laborious hooligan?"

"I only understand half of those words but I don't like the sound of the rest," I snap. This guy is already getting on my nerves. I can't stand five minutes with him, how am I supposed to spend five days a week with him?! "Don't you dare to talk to me like that you . . . you . . . nerd!"

"Ooooh, burn," Mellark mutters sarcastically. He tosses me a pencil and sighs. "What do you know about algebra?"

"I don't know anything about any girl called Alge and I certainly don't know nothing about her bra. God, are you really that much of a pervert?" I ask, disgusted.

Mellark groans and rubs his temples. "This is going to be hard."

"Well Jesus, if you're finding it hard then there's no hope for me," I say.

"Katniss, please, I don't like this as much as you do." Mellark looks at me seriously. His eyes are shockingly blue. Whoa, that's . . . that's almost inhuman. Ew. "But if you want to pass and if I want Haymitch off my back-if I do-then we're going to have to compromise with each other. Work together to get the same result."

"Teamwork," I scoff. "With you? The only team I work on is the Squad. Anything other than that is not worth thinking about. You're nothing to me, Mellark. Understand? I just want to pass math."

Mellark pushes his glasses up his nose, the frames obscuring the bruise a little. "Glad we're on the same page," he says.

I cluck my tongue and look at the clock. "Can I leave now?"

"It's been ten minutes," Mellark says flatly.

"Isn't this an orientation or something?" I ask.

Mellark rolls his hybrid eyes but nods. "Fine. Whatever. Go. But we're spending the whole hour tomorrow whether you like it or not."

I chuck the pencil back at him and stand up. "Whatever you say cupcakes."

Ms. Trinket gives me a week off Cheerleading until my ankle heals. I'm bothered by this but I know it's in my best interests as I can't perform my very best unless I'm on top form. That's how I end up standing in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror with my orange painkiller bottle clutched in my hand. I must heal my ankle. If it doesn't heal as quickly as possible then I can't cheer. And I need to cheer. My cheering is my reputation.

The water in my sink is running, the water splattering the porcelain and splashing over the edges. I'm not washing or anything, I just find the sound of running water very relaxing. I look at my reflection and scowl at myself. God, I'm a mess. I pop the lid on the painkiller bottle and pull one out, slipping it into my mouth and swallowing it whole. I'm about to secure the lid back on top of the bottle when it happens.

My ankle spasms and my leg goes out from under me. Pills fly out of the bottle as I fall and my scream echoes in the large bathroom like the screech of a banshee. My head smacks against the floor and my vision slides out of focus. I blink rapidly as pain blossoms at the back of my head. The agony pushes through into my skull and seizes my brain.

The last thing I remember before I black out is the sound of running water.


	3. Sparkled Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss wakes up in hospital and is shocked to discover that everyone thinks she tried to kill herself. No one believing her, she is forced to go to school where everyone has heard of what has happened. To top it all off, someone who she had previously believed was her best friend has jumped at the opportunity to ditch her friends for more popularity. Can things get any worse?

Chapter Three

My head is throbbing, each beat feeling like a fresh blow to my skull. Thump. Thump. Thump. When my eyelids flicker open, I'm blinded by a white flare of light. I groan in pain and lift my hands to my eyes, rubbing them fiercely with the heels. "Wha . . ." I mutter. Thankfully, the blurriness in my eyes clears as I prop myself up on my elbows and look around.

Jesus, is this a hospital room?

My mother gasps in relief and I jump in surprise. My mother's here? "Mom?" I ask in confusion.

"Oh Katniss," Mom says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it desperately. "Thank God you're okay."

"Mom, what's wrong?" I frown. "Of course I'm okay. What happened? Why am I here?" I try to pull the covers of my bed back and get up but Mom stops me. "Mom, you're freaking me out. What's going on? Where are we?"

"You're in District 13 hospital," Mom gently says. "You've been here all night."

All night? Then it rushes back to me. The painkillers, the water, the pain in my ankle, the slip. "Did I break something?" I ask, lifting my arms. I wouldn't be surprised if I did hurt myself, the fall was pretty hard. "Or a sprain or something?" I lift the covers and my heart skips a beat at the sight of a huge cast swallowing up my entire leg.

"Sweetheart, it's going to be okay," Mom insists.

"No, it's not!" I exclaim.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!" I look at my Mom in blind panic. "I can't cheer with a broken leg! How long is it going to take to heal? Will I be able to cheer at the homecoming game?"

Mom shakes her head. In fact, she looks a little confused. "I don't think so, sweetie."

Oh my god. This isn't happening. My world is crashing down around me. If I can't cheer, what am I supposed to do? Cheering is my life! If I can't do that, there's nothing else worth doing. I groan and fall onto my back again on the bed. "This isn't happening. I'm going to wake up and this will all be over. It has to be a dream. A horrible nightmare or something. My life is over!"

"No, it is not," Mom says firmly. I lift my head and frown at her. She sounds so determined. She's never been all that worried about my cheerleading. In fact, I know she'd prefer that I didn't do it. That I focused more on my studies or whatever. If anything like this actually happened, I would have thought that she'd have been overjoyed.

"What is up with you?" I demand to know. Mom looks uncomfortable. "Mom?"

"Dr. Aurelius wants to talk about you," Mom blurts out.

My frown deepens. "Who?"

Mom touches my hand again and I look at our joined hands, completely perplexed. "He's a psychiatrist," she explains.

"Why does a psychiatrist want to see me?" I ask.

The door to the room opens and a man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck steps in. "Hello Mrs. Everdeen," he said. "Katniss."

"I don't understand what the hell is going on," I say.

"Dr. Aurelius," he introduces. He approaches my mom and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Would it be okay if I spoke to Katniss privately?"

My mom nods and, with one last look towards me, she gets up and leaves. Dr. Aurelius takes her spot by my bedside and smiles this weird, overly bright grin at me. "So, Dr. Aurelius," I say, dragging his name out, "what the hell is happening? Why is my mom acting weird?"

"Katniss," says Dr. Aurelius, "how have you been feeling lately?"

"Okay," I reply cautiously. "Why?"

"Has anything made you feel . . . sad or upset?" Dr. Aurelius continues.

"Er . . . no."

Dr. Aurelius nods but he doesn't seem convinced. What right does he have not to believe what I'm telling him? Why is he asking me this anyway? I broke my leg. Why does that entail questions about my feelings and whether I've been upset recently? "I still don't understand what's going on," I insist.

"Katniss, how long have you been taking painkillers?" Dr. Aurelius asks.

What? "Since I sprained my ankle the day before yesterday at cheerleading," I answer. "Please tell me what the heck is going on! Why are you asking me these weird questions? I don't get it!"

"We're just trying to get to the bottom of why you tried to commit suicide, Katniss," says Dr. Aurelius, his voice incredibly soft and careful.

I stare at him dumbly for what had to be at least a minute and half. "Suicide?" I repeat slowly. "I didn't try to commit suicide!"

"According to your mother, you've been failing math, has the pressure of school felt like it's been piling up on top of you?" Dr. Aurelius continues regardless of my denial. Is he mad? I didn't try to kill myself! I don't have a reason to! My life is perfect! Up until now, that is. When I'm too stunned to answer his question, he continues, "Has the fear of failing caused you to snap?"

"I didn't snap," I protest. "I don't even care about math!"

"Katniss, things would be a lot easier if you just co-operated," says Dr. Aurelius. "You were found lying on your bathroom floor covered in painkillers with the water overflowing around of the sink. We just want to help you, I want to help you. But for any helping to be had, you have to be willing to work with me."

"I shouldn't have to!" I exclaim. "I didn't try to kill myself! I was taking a painkiller-you hear that doctor? One!-maybe another one a few hours later if the pain persisted! But my ankle spazed out and I slipped, probably bringing the whole bottle of pills down with me! It was an accident, I didn't try to kill myself, that's absurd!"

Dr. Aurelius is patient. I hate that he's patient. I want him to get angry, as angry as I am right now so maybe he understands what it's like to be thoroughly pissed off. Maybe I should accuse him of something he hasn't done. Like cheating on his wife. I squint at him in curiosity and lean back into the pillows on the bed. Or husband?

"Why was the water running, Katniss?" he asks.

"I like the sound of running water," I reply.

"Why was the plug in the drain if it was only to do with the sound?"

"I don't know, the plug is on this really long, annoying chain, it probably fell in when I didn't notice," I answer.

Dr. Aurelius nods. He writes something down in his pad. What's he writing? What he could possibly have got from that? I try to peer over to read it but he pulls it up so I'm left staring at the bland brown book cover. "Katniss, I'm going to put you on some medication for depression"-

"Depression?! I'm not depressed!" I shout. Depression is something those weirdo Goths and Emos who sit in Loser's End have, not me! What, am I expected to be constantly gloomy now and walk around wearing a black veil? As if!

"It's a mild form of medication, just to stabilise your emotions. I also want to meet with you once every week, so I can gauge your progress," Dr. Aurelius explains. "We'll get to the bottom of this, whether it takes the rest of the year or the rest of your teenage life." He stands up and smiles. "You seem like a bright girl, Katniss. We're just trying to help you."

Help me? Helping me would be inventing a miracle drug that can cure my broken leg before the homecoming game! I have spent my entire life dreaming about cheering at the homecoming game and, later, the final game of the season. Now it's all ruined! I wonder if Gale will still be interested in me now that I've got this ugly cast on my leg. Surely he would be? I'm just going to have to make myself look prettier to make up for it.

"Whatever," I mutter, folding my arms. I'm already over all this drama.

I don't go into school for a whole week. I spend the entire seven days of rest at home, spitting out pills when my mother leaves the room and watching annoying rom-coms with my sister. Thankfully, when I supposedly attempted 'suicide' Prim had been at a friend's house and didn't witness any of the drama that ensued when my mother found me. My sister is the only thing besides cheering that I deeply care about. Even though she is in her final year of Middle School, I refuse to acknowledge the idea that my baby sister is growing up. I still feel the urge to protect her, to shield her from the nasty like sex, drugs, alcohol and violence. All the things that I experienced when I entered High School. It's not that I don't trust Prim to be sensible and make responsible decisions, I just feel like her eyes are still too innocent to be dirtied by such horrid things.

As far as Prim knows, I slipped in the bathroom and broke my leg. My mother says it's for the best, which caused me to point out that that is what happened. However, all I got in response was a tut and a sad expression. God, is it so hard to believe that I'm not depressed and I didn't try to kill myself?

I'm almost glad when mum allows me to go back to school. Albeit I hadn't showered in a week and had to spend the entire night before scrubbing my skin raw with a black bin bag around my cast, but it was worth it to have a shot at going back to school. Maybe my life will go back to normal once I do.

As soon as I hobble into school, however, I know this will not be the cause.

Every eye turns to me, like I'm wearing yellow khakis with purple polka dots and a huge red afro wig. They stare at me like I'm an anomaly, something they almost can't believe is standing here in person. It's then that I know that it has gotten around about my 'suicide attempt'.

Absolutely fantastic (!)

The hospital administered crutches are difficult to navigate. I practically hop up the corridor to my locker, thankful that years of cheer practice has strengthened the muscles in my thighs and calves. I prop my crutches against the locker beside mine and lean most of my weight onto my left hand while I use the right to unlock my locker. My combination is my sister's birthday; my own birthday and-just to throw people off-the date I found the goat dying on the side of the road and brought it home for Prim as a birthday present. Mom was able to heal it and it became a house pet called Lady.

Prim makes great cheese from Lady's milk.

While I'm pulling my books out of my locker and stuffing them into my backpack, a ball of black hair and pale skin floats into my peripheral vision. I turn my head to look at Clove, who has appeared by my side and is staring at me with huge, wide eyes as if I'm going to melt in front of her any second or disappear like an apparition.

"Can I help you?" I enquire.

"Is it true?" Clove immediately asks.

"I don't know, is what true?" I say, just to be difficult.

"Did you try to kill yourself?" I'm glad Clove isn't going to behave the way my mother has been behaving for the past week. I don't want to have to deal with my best friend pussy footing around me.

I sigh. "No, I didn't. It's all a huge misunderstanding." I slam my locker shut and lean my back against it to give my good leg a break.

Clove squints at me. "Are you being sarcastic?"

"What? No!"

Clove rolls her eyes and I'm irritated that she doesn't believe me. Why won't anyone take my word for it? I've never lied about anything in my life! Okay, well, that's a lie but surely they should know that I'm not lying about this! "Coach Trinket has assumed that you will be out of action for the homecoming game," she says.

I groan and cover my eyes with my hands. "Don't remind me!"

"Glimmer has been promoted to head cheerleader while you're . . ." Clove trails off and glances at my leg, "incapacitated."

"Glimmer? Since when has she been head cheerleader material?!" I exclaim, removing my hands from my eyes and glaring at Clove. I feel betrayed. I bet Glimmer jumped at the chance to become head cheerleader, the bleach blonde tramp!

"Since you attempted suicide," Clove shrugged.

"I didn't attempt suicide!" I shout. People stop in the corridor and glance at me like I'm a bomb about to go off. I lower my voice a little. "I slipped in my bathroom while taking painkillers for my ankle. Remember? I sprained it? I was walking like the hunchback and everything?"

"Don't shoot the messenger," Clove said, holding her hands up in a defensive stance. "I told Glimmer that you wouldn't be happy but she wouldn't listen."

"I always knew she was only friends with me so she'd move up the ranks," I mutter to myself. The bell rings and I sling my backpack on before grabbing my crutches and hopping along beside Clove.

"There's something else, too," says Clove as we enter the Science room.

"What?" I ask suspiciously.

"Gale asked Glimmer to Cashmere's party."

"What?!" I yell, not caring who hears. "He asked me to Cashmere's party!"

Clove nods slowly as she sits at her desk. I plop into mine beside her, relieved to give my leg a break. "Yeah, he did. And you told him you were being stalked by Fatboy Mellark, hence why he now has a black eye and gets his money taken off him every morning before school starts by Gale's crew. It's become so common that they don't even have to force it out of him anymore, he just sort of hands it over like a toll."

I almost feel guilty for what Gale's crew are doing to Mellark. Almost.

"And because you tried to"-I give Clove a sharp look and she sighs-"relieve the pain in your leg, he thought you wouldn't be back for the party. So he asked Glimmer and she said yes."

I slam my books onto my desk, satisfied by the loud thwack! they make. "That bitch," I say. "I can't believe she'd be so quick to stab me in the back."

"Anyone would do anything to stay at the top of the food chain," Clove says quietly, propping her chin on her hand as Mr. Crane comes in, lab coat billowing behind him like a cape, and starts what looks like a monotonous lesson on Hard and Soft Water.

Throughout first and second period, all I can do is ponder Glimmer's betrayal. Why would Gale ask her out anyway when he's never shown an interest in her before? I don't think they've ever even spoken to each other up until now. Gale has always been interested in me that was the point. He didn't care about Clove or Glimmer, it was always me he stopped in the corridor to talk to; it was always me he smiled at; it was always me he went to when Madge wasn't around.

At the end of second period, when I'm shoving my books into my backpack, a light bulb goes off in my head and I'm struck down my absolute genius.

"He's making me jealous," I declare at break.

Clove pauses mid-bite. "What?" she mumbles over her apple.

It's a nice enough day so we're sitting outside. I have my leg propped up on the double bench so (A) my leg gets enough rest and (B) Glimmer can't join us. Although, I haven't seen Glimmer all day. I don't know where she is. Clove, who sits across the table from me on the single bench against the wall, is only vaguely interested in what I have to say.

"Can't you see?" I insist. "I disappear for a week so Gale gets worried and asks Glimmer out on impulse. When she says yes, he realizes he can use this to his advantage and make me jealous. It's the only logical explanation."

"The only logical explanation?" Clove asks, raising her eyebrow. She digs her teeth into the apple and chews thoughtfully. "Have you not maybe considered that he actually likes Glimmer? Genuinely?"

I scoff. "Glimmer has about as much appeal as cold sick," I say.

Clove stops chewing. "Thanks for that image, I really needed it," she says sarcastically. She pauses and glances over my shoulder, her face unreadable. I turn to see what she's looking at and my face immediately melts into a scowl.

Across the yard, at the football team's table, Glimmer is sat on Gale's lap, laughing and throwing grapes into his mouth. His hand is holding her hip while the other one rests dangerously close to her ass. Typical. I bet he's glad that the girl who he's using as an envy tool won tits of the year in Junior year. It wasn't anything official, just a stupid game the Junior boys did at the end of the year. Clove won rear of the year and I got best figure overall. I still remember the look of faux pleasure on Glimmer's face when she found that one out.

Gale glances at me and our eyes lock. Glimmer prods his mouth with another grape and he takes it, chewing it slowly while still holding my gaze. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he smirks. It's then I know that I'm right. The bastard is trying to make me jealous. Well, you know what? Two can play at that game!

"What's Marvel doing now-a-days?" I ask Clove once I've turned back around.

"Gropey Marvel?" Clove asks incredulously.

"Yeah, him."

"I don't know. I haven't heard much about him since you two broke up."

Marvel was my first ever boyfriend. We dated for a couple of semesters in Freshman year. Clove's nickname for him is derived from the fact that he was extremely handsy. It's annoying for me to admit that he has my virginity under his belt and I extremely wish I had held out for my next boyfriend-Finnick Odair-who had been a total babe and still is.

"Are you sure you want to go through having your boobs squashed in those huge palms again?" Clove frowns.

I wince at the idea. "Probably not," I say. I blow a thoughtful raspberry. "What about Cato? Is he still gay?"

Clove snorts. "Last I heard, yeah."

"Damn."

The story of Cato's coming out is an interesting one. I suppose it eradicates all homophobic stereotypes that people who are gay are pansies or feminine or that it's obvious to know that they are gay because you'll just instantly be able to tell. Cato is the inside linebacker for the football team and nobody suspected a thing concerning his sexuality. Everyone just figured he was focusing on his game more than dating and stuff. But when in Sophomore year he and a foreign exchange student-who I admit, was pretty hot-were caught making out in the janitor's closet at lunchtime, Cato decided to confirm everyone's suspicions by completing an art project that consisted of a huge, wall size poster of Elton John with a rainbow coloured background. It certainly shut the haters up, anyhow.

No one would dare bully Cato about it because they know he's capable of crushing anyone into the ground.

"I'll just give Marvel a call, then," I mutter.

"You don't have to," Clove reminds me. "You don't have to stoop to Gale's level."

"I'm not going to let him have the last word. If he wants to make me jealous, then I'm going to make him jealous first," I declare, fishing my phone out of my pocket and sending Marvel a text asking if he had a date for Cashmere's party.

Clove rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything more on the subject. "You still have to go to Maths after school, by the way," she reminds me.

I groan at the very idea. "Surely I'll be let off, since everyone thinks I'm a depressed saddo who tried to top herself."

"No such luck," Clove replies. "Fatboy Mellark will be waiting for you, as usual, in the library. Mr. Abernathy told me to tell you when I saw you next."

"I'm going to catch the loser off him," I whine. "I can feel it."

Clove takes another bite of her apple. "Being a loser isn't contagious, you know. Just like it can't be cured."

For some reason, I have a feeling she's wrong.


	4. Teaching a Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss sits through her first full lesson with Peeta. Math is on the last thing on her mind, however, as she tricks Marvel into taking her to Cashmere Sardick's party to make Gale jealous. At the party, she begins to notice something amongst her group of friends. Something off and something she never saw before . . .

Chapter Four

Mellark is once again in the library before me. I'm not surprised by this, I purposely procrastinated even arriving. Thankfully it's a lot emptier than the first time we tried this and there are only a few pairs of eyes staring at me as I limp over to Mellark's table. He's hunched over a book again, not to hide any bruises this time I'm guessing.

I slap my books onto the table hard enough to make a loud bang. Mellark jumps in shock and looks at me in alarm. "Was that necessary?" he demands.

"I don't know, was it?" I ask back, easing myself into the seat across from him and throwing my crutches onto the floor. I expect a snide comment from him. Something about karma or comeuppance, that since I made fun of his black eye on our first study day, fate has bit me in the ass in the form of a broken leg. Or maybe something about my alleged suicide. Maybe he's going to say something like the world's better off without me or whatever. Nothing I'd take to heart, since he is such a dweeb.

Except nothing comes. Well, nothing concerning my broken leg anyway. Or my 'suicide'. I eye Mellark sceptically as he slips his book underneath the huge ass algebra text book and wonder if he's making fun of me by not saying anything. Maybe he makes jokes with the other twerps from Loser's End when my back's turned? Typical. Coward won't say it to my face.

It's difficult to concentrate. My thoughts are distracted with images of Glimmer and Gale. I worry that Gale will think I'm not interested and give up, maybe actually trying to become serious with Glimmer. I'll have to find someone soon, and something tells me it's going to have to be Marvel. The guy who seems to have a vendetta against the squishiness of my breasts.

"Are you even focusing?" Mellark brings me back to earth by asking.

I focus my eyes on him and cock my head in interest. "You're a smart guy, do you think Glimmer and Gale's relationship will last?"

Mellark stares at me with an expression I can only decipher as disbelief. "Excuse me?" he asks.

"Glimmer and Gale. Do you think they'll last?"

"And this has what to do with Algebra?"

"Nothing," I say. "But I'm asking anyway."

Mellark rolls his eyes and directs them back to the textbook. "It is not my place to comment on the relationship status of others. Especially not Gale Hawthorne's."

"Yeah but you must have an opinion," I insist.

"And what if I said I did think it would last?"

"I would say you're a lying fucker."

Mellark pushes his glasses up his nose and sighs. "Put like a true lady," he says.

I scowl. "Just answer the damn question."

"Katniss, if you honestly believe that anyone thinks that the spontaneous getting together of Glimmer and Gale is anything but fake then you're obviously paranoid," Mellark says. "Why would a guy whose eyes have always been glued to your ass ever since freshman year choose one of your best friends when you disappear for a week? It's hardly a feasible decision."

A smirk curls onto my face. "His eyes have been glued to my ass since freshman year?" I ask. There's a possibility that Mellark could be lying but out of all the things to be untruthful about, why would he bother with that? Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if Gale's eyes had been glued to my ass since we were freshman. I always had a feeling he had been attracted to me for that long. Maybe even longer.

"I knew it," I conclude, folding my arms smugly. "I knew you'd be good for something, Mellark."

"Most would assume that the good you should have suspected would have been my aiding you in passing math," Mellark comments.

I laugh. Idiots. "Look Mellark, I don't need math. I'm only coming to these lessons so I don't get thrown in hot water with Mr. Abernathy," I explain. "Do you honestly believe I'd come here for any other reason?"

"Obviously not," Mellark replies.

I grab my cast in both hands and haul it up so it's elevated on the seat beside Mellark's. I lean back in my seat and rest my crossed arms on top of my chest. I watch the nerd with a perplexed frown as he arranges his papers. The bruise on his face is beginning to fade but I'm sure Gale will be giving out plenty more before the year ends. Still, if Clove is right and Gale and his friends have been stopping him outside school every day to take his money, what has he been doing for things such as lunch?

"What have you been eating?" I find myself randomly asking. I shouldn't care but curiosity has gotten the better of me.

The question seems to almost strike Mellark like I've slapped him. He almost flinches as if the words I have spoken are venomous. "Don't worry, I've been laying off the fries, just like you said," he mutters.

My frown deepens. "Why should you care about what I say?" I ask. "People like you and me insult each other all the time."

"Oh yeah, sure," Mellark says, rolling his eyes. "All the time."

He's obviously trying to make me feel bad. Mellark doesn't listen to me, let alone do as I tell him. He's trying to guilt me into thinking, 'Oh no! Poor baby Mellark's fweelings were hurt by my wittle comment about his weight.' Ha! As if. "Just answer the question. You're lucky I'm even still here."

Mellark laughs. "You speak as if I want you here," he says. "Go if you wish, but whatever grade you get at the end of the year is on your head."

My phone buzzes and when I pull it out of my pocket; there's a notice of a text from Marvel. I roll my eyes. Fantastic. I knew it wouldn't be long before he heard that I was talking about him again.

"Hey babe, heard u want 2 hook up Cashmere's party?"

I bite back a devious grin and stamp out a fast response.

"Yea. Why? U up 4 it?"

I look back up at Mellark, who seems unimpressed by my texting during a study session. God, he's such a nerd. "Gale's been stealing your money for at least the past two weeks. Unless you Loser's End freaks share food. It's weird but I wouldn't put it past you chumps."

Mellark shows little interest in the direction this conversation has taken. "Look Katniss, all I am here for is to teach you math. I am not a friend, let alone someone you should engage in conversation. Besides, why ask such questions when it is clear you don't care? Why should I tell you anything when if I said something it is obvious you will immediately run off and gossip to your friends?"

I grimace. "What flew up your nose?" I scoff. "Fine, teach me something. I'd like to see you try."

My phone buzzes.

"I'm always up 4 it baby. Want 2 meet up b4? May-b this afternoon?"

"Sure. What time?"

"Maybe it's about time you learned Algebra. Since you are clearly nonplussed on the topic."

"Fine, whatever."

"How about 5:30?"

"KK."

HALF AN HOUR LATER:

I stare at my exercise book blankly. Numbers are scratched out on my page, intercepted occasionally by letters. Beside each one are ticks. Green ticks. As in ticks that indicate something is right. I . . . got it right. All of it. I expect Mellark to be smug. He's bound to be. I'm sure he's pretty pleased with himself, having taught the stupid girl how to collect like terms and solve equations. Oh my God, I already sound like a nerd!

I dread looking at him but when I do, he's not even looking at me. He's packing his bag. I suppose understanding a whole new topic is enough for one day but . . . wow. I actually got it. I still can't believe it. Maybe this nerd will help me.

Mellark stands up and shoulders his bag. "I'll see you around the same time tomorrow." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, whatever," I say.

In his own weird way, I suppose Mellark is kind of cute. Not my type, obviously, but I'm sure if he wasn't such a freak he'd find a girlfriend much easier. Ha, or a boyfriend. I guess I could ask Cato if he was single right now, since I'm obviously going to have to do something to pay Mellark back for his help. If Mellark is even gay, that is. I'm sure he is. He's never showed interest in girls before.

Eck. I hate owing people.

I meet Marvel at the 50's café near the school. This is the most common area for students to hang out and, if I want our going out together to spread as fast as Glimmer and Gale's did, this is our best bet to go on a date.

"Katniss," Marvel drawls as soon as he lays eyes on me. He's sitting in a booth, the glass of cola sitting on the metal table gathering a condensation ring around the bottom. I shudder at his sleazy tone. It feels like someone has walked over my grave. Every step I take towards him feels like I'm wading through thick mud. The only thing keeping me moving is the image of what Gale's face will look like when he hears about us. "How long has it been?"

I plaster a fake smile onto my face and slide into the seat beside him. I leave my crutches against the table and sigh. "Too long."

"So, what brings this sudden request of company?" asks Marvel.

"Loneliness," I lie. "I'm sure you understand all too well what such a thing feels like." I ignore the fact that Marvel is staring at my chest, not my eyes. I should be flattered that my chest is worth staring at, really. Besides, I don't want to really start a relationship with this pervert, I just need him to believe that I do to get Gale jealous at Cashmere's party.

Marvel raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of the cola. He doesn't ask if I want anything. I can feel hundreds of eyes on us. Every single student from Capitol High is probably watching us right this minute. I smile. Good. Always so intrigued in everyone's lives and never their own.

"And here's me thinking it was because no one wanted you after you tried to top yourself," Marvel says.

"One: I didn't try to top myself," I say, "and two: why would you think that? You know I've always had a soft spot for you, Marvel."

Marvel chuckles, clearly pleased with my answer. "I do leave quite the impressionable mark," he says. He threads his fingers to form an arch and sits his chin on top. "I heard that you've been stalked by Fatboy Mellark. Some think that's why you swallowed all those pills. Thoughts?"

My façade momentarily wavers. What? Surely he's lying. The whole stalking thing was only a white lie I mentioned to Gale, surely people aren't taking it to such extremes? I shake my head quickly. "Mellark can't scare me," I say. "I didn't swallow loads of pills either. I slipped."

"Nevertheless, I wouldn't worry about him anymore, babe, Gale and I have been taking care of it," Marvel explains.

I resist the urge to turn my nose up. I know all too well that they've been dealing with it. Although, it's kind of sweet they've been doing this to defend my honour. But the damage they're causing to Mellark . . . maybe I should tell them to ease off. Not that I care but I need the little nerd to finish teaching me math.

"He's backed off," I say. "There's really no need to keep punishing him. He'd be an idiot not to be afraid of you guys." I lean over the table and touch Marvel's arm, resisting the urge to hurl. God, this better work.

Marvel grins and cups his hand over my own. I'm repulsed by his touch but continue to smile anyways. "Whatever you say, baby."

Yeah, whatever I say. As long as you do your job, you can do whatever you want, too. "Thanks. You know . . . just . . . leave Mellark alone, alright? He's a weakling. It's almost unfair to keep bothering him."

Marvel sighs, clearly agreeing with me. I remove my hand from his arm and try not to shake it to rid it of his pervy germs. "School is a jungle, baby," says Marvel. How many times has he called me that now? "Sometimes the bacteria at the bottom of the food chain have to be reminded of their position. And that's what we predators do. It's not really a question of fair and unfair. Really, because Mellark is a weakling he's just asking for a beating."

I pick at the red napkin sitting diagonally on my side of the table. "I know-all of Loser's End are practically asking for it-but does the tiger attack the deer simply for the sake of it? No. He waits until he's hungry. Where's the joy of the hunt if the animal is always expecting it?" Why are we still discussing this anyways? I don't care about Mellark but the poor sap can't defend himself against Marvel or Gale or anyone else who have decided to be a part of the morning collection.

"But I'm always hungry," Marvel smirks.

His hand crawls onto my knee. I silently inhale, thankful that I chose today to wear jeans. If I felt his bare hand on my skin I'd probably throw up for real. "I'm counting on it," I reply seductively. "Let's stop talking about that loser Mellark. Are you on for Cashmere's party or not? I'm sure if you don't there's somebody else who would be more than willing to"-

"No, I'm game," Marvel blurts out. His eyes slip down to my chest again and bounce back up like the sight of them alone had a bouncy castle effect. "As long as you promise to wear that sexy mini dress you were wearing when we met."

It takes me a moment to remember the dress he's talking about. Do I even still have that dress? I nod anyways. "Of course." I'll probably wear something else and tell him on the night that Prim borrowed it for her drama class.

Marvel grins so wide I can see his teeth. They're unnaturally white. He's probably whitened them over a thousand times. When we were going out, he told me that he wanted to have them capped. I can imagine him doing it so much that he ends up looking like a horse. "You know what they say, the best should always go out with the best," he says.

What? Who the hell says that? I smile anyway. "Obviously."

Besides, all of this is a game anyway. All you need to do is play the right moves and you're sure to win.

~xXx~

Cashmere is a classic rich kid. Every time her parents leave on business trips, she leaps on the chance to exploit their mansion-sized house in the form of throwing parties. All she has to do is tell one person, who tells another, who tells another, until the entire school knows about it. It's not very difficult for word to spread at this damn school. You know whether you're welcome, of course. The Loser's End freaks are sensible enough to know to steer clear while we cheerleaders know we're more than welcome.

Marvel and I agreed to meet at the house. I suggested this. Mostly because I'm not at all keen on the idea of sharing a cab with Marvel, who will try and touch my thigh every few seconds. I hope he realizes that we can't fuck tonight. I'm clearly not in the state for sex. Unless he wants to do all the work, that is.

The party was due to begin at 8:00pm but when I arrive at 7:55, it seems like things have been in full swing for quite some time. I don't know where to meet Marvel (all we agreed on was meeting at the house, the thought of where exactly at the house didn't really dawn on me until I was hobbling up the steps leading to Cashmere's house).

On my way into the house, I'm shocked to find Mellark sitting on the bench on the porch. "What are you doing here?" I ask in surprise.

Mellark looks at me, his surprise equating mine, and shrugs. "Delly's parents are out of town and she's staying with my family for the weekend. I have to look after her. The only way my parents would let her come was if I came with her."

Of course. That would the only reason someone as cool as Cashmere ever allow a loser on her front porch. Delly is awesome and can be the heart and soul of a party. You don't party without a Cartwright there. It's like a national rule or something. Ignoring Mellark and walking on, I use my crutches as a personal space enforcer. I beat anyone who gets too close out of the way and push people with them if they're in my way. Cashmere's house is huge and earlier tonight I reconsidered even going. I knew I'd be exhausted within five minutes from having to drag this anchor-a.k.a. my cast-around. I dismissed the very idea, however, as it would be foolish to miss the party. Cashmere's parties are always monumental and I missed the last one to Spanish Flu so I'm not missing out again.

"Katniss!" Clove pushes through the masses to reach me, pushing a drunk who touched her ass into the staircase on her way. The idiot was clearly wasted and simply allowed himself to roll down the steps instead of trying to save himself. "You made it."

"Of course I did," I say breathlessly. Shit, I'm sweating. I dab my forehead with the back of my hand and try to breathe slowly to get oxygen back into my lungs.

"Maybe you should sit down," Clove says, eyeing me cautiously, like she expects me to pass out right before her eyes.

"I'm fine," I say. I flick my hair out of my eyes and flash my winner smile at her. Clove rolls her eyes but doesn't question me. I know she doesn't believe me but it wouldn't be the first time.

"Oh my god!" A tipsy Leevy pushes stumbles in from the kitchen. Leevy is the daughter of the head of the school's board of governors so she can basically get away with anything. She climbed the popularity ladder by handing out test answers like candy without getting in trouble with the teachers. "Katniss!" She looks at my leg, staring at it intensely for a good half minute. She eventually meets my eyes again and gushes, "I have to sign your cast!"

When I was little, I remember being desperate to break my arm so people could sign my cast. Now it hadn't really passed my mind. "Uh"-

Leevy helps me to the living room. "MOVE!" she barks at the wasted teens on the sofa. Once clear, she all but pushes me down on it, lifts my cast and balances it on the coffee table. "Anyone got a pen?" she yells.

Clove appears beside her, her expression as bored as usual. "Here," she said, passing over a black sharpie.

"Oh! I wanna sign!" Someone else declares which starts a chorus of other drunk nimrods deciding they want to sign my cast as well. I don't mind, really. I'm just thankful for the seat. I don't recognize half the people who take the sharpie and signs their name but Clove looms over their shoulders like a hawk. One guy tried to draw something inappropriate and she pushed him away before he could.

"We really should be charging," Clove concludes, perching on the arm of the sofa beside me.

"Mmm," I hum in agreement. Imagine the profit! A dollar a sign amongst these drunk idiots? We'd make a fortune!

When the excitement over the cast signing begins to die down, a voice behind the sofa asks, "Any room for one more?"

I bolt upright and crane my neck around just in time to see Gale make his way around the sofa. "Of course!" I say, nudging Clove with my elbow so she'll hand Gale the sharpie.

"Ow!" Clove yelps. "What are your elbows made of? Steel?" She grumpily hands over the sharpie and walks away to leave Gale and me alone. I touch my hair, making sure that my braid hasn't come undone so I don't look scruffy. When I'm satisfied that it's intact, I straighten up and try to look unfazed by Gale's appearance.

Gale crouches beside me and traces his name onto a spot near my ankle. I hold my breath, watching his strong hand as it cuts straight and true to create the letters of his name. I lay back to seem casual and ask, "So where's Glimmer?"

"Powdering her nose," Gale answers. He stands up and hands me the sharpie. His fingers brush mine and I tilt my head. Curious. "Why do you girls need to powder your noses anyway?"

"It's a secret," I whisper. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Gale laughs. I smirk, pleased that he finds me funny. "I guess I'll just have to ask Cato next time I see him."

I snort. "Like he'd know."

Gale takes Clove's position on the edge of the sofa. My body is on red alert, my brain wide awake to make sure I don't do anything stupid. I shift over so I have a better view of him. "Sure he does," said Gale. "Pansies tend to, don't they?"

I pull a face. Well that was out of taste. "I guess," I say unsurely. "Isn't that a bit . . . ?"

"Honest?"

"I was going to say stereotypical."

Gale laughs again. I don't find anything funny this time around but I laugh anyway.

"Katniss."

My head jerks to the right and I jump at the sight of Marvel standing at the opposite end of the sofa with his eyebrow quirked. "Marvel," I beam, "there you are! I was just holding a little signing session. Care to add your name to the pool?"

Marvel seems weary of me. His eyes constantly glance at Gale and I hope he doesn't figure out what I'm doing too early. Once he's signed his name, he climbs over the coffee table and sits down beside me on the sofa. He throws his arm around me and I try not to cringe at how he smells of pungent sweat. "Gale, where's your beautiful date for the evening?"

Gale's eyes are locked on Marvel's arm and how it's wrapped around my neck. I bite back a smirk and, against my better judgement, snuggle closer to Marvel so my head lies on his chest. "Powdering her nose," Gale repeats. His voice is guarded. Suspicious.

Marvel rolls his eyes. "Women. A mystery all of their own."

Gale also rolls his eyes, clearly in agreement. "Tell me about it," he says. "I"-

"Gale!" Glimmer launches herself at Gale, her thin arms encompassing his neck and practically strangling him upon contact. "I'm back!"

Now that I have taken a step back from Glimmer, I can truly see how fucking annoying she is. Her voice is so high pitched and unnecessarily shrill. She's too giggly, almost like a five year old, and I don't understand how it took me to hate her to actually notice this. Even Marvel winces when she opens her mouth and he's dealt with much worse.

Glimmer drags Gale away to the kitchen for some drinks. I resist the urge to push Marvel away from me, knowing that since the night is young there will still be plenty of opportunities to make Gale jealous. The way he looked at Marvel's arm around me was enough evidence for my theory to be confirmed. Now all I need is to batter him with envy.

"Why aren't you wearing the dress I asked you to wear?" asks Marvel.

Damn, I almost forgot he was here.

"Prim borrowed it," I lie.

"And you didn't have any other dresses to wear?"

I look at my jeans. What's wrong with skinny jeans? Who gives Marvel the right to control my wardrobe anyway? Every second I'm in his presence the more aware I become of why we broke up. "None of them looked good enough because of my cast," I say. "Besides, I can't navigate well with a skirt on. It'd hitch up too high. Probably bunch up at the waist or something."

Marvel's eyes darken. "And what's wrong with that?" he asks.

"Many things," I say flatly. My annoyed tone makes Marvel begin to frown and I quickly whisper, "Because I'm not wearing anything underneath," while tracing patterns on his chest. Okay, that's a lie, but Marvel doesn't know this. I don't plan on him getting my pants off at any part of the night so he'll never know if I'm being honest or not.

The grin that curls onto Marvel's face is something to put the Joker to shame. I shiver in its presence. "Really now?" he purrs, tilting his head and leaning towards me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that the kiss is over quickly. I count backwards from fifty in my head and frown when I reach twenty without feeling Marvel's mouth on me at all. I open my eyes again and jump when I see that Gale and Glimmer have returned and are sitting across from us. They've gotten us drinks as well, which I accept graciously, overwhelmed with relief that I don't have to worry about Marvel kissing me just yet.

"Did anyone else see Mellark outside earlier or am I losing my mind?" asks Glimmer.

"No, he was there," I reply, sipping my beer cautiously. If I drink too fast, it'll react with my meds and I'll throw up. I can drink alcohol, just as long as I take it slowly. Which means no more shots for the feasible future. "Said something about being Delly's guardian or something like that? I don't know."

"He's not there anymore," Gale says.

I look at him over the rim of my beer cup. "What do you mean? Delly hasn't left, has she?"

"No," says Gale. He beams, as if proud of himself, and explains. "I don't think Mellark has fully gotten the message about leaving you alone, so I taught him a lesson."

Marvel and Glimmer burst out laughing like it's hilarious. If it had been a few weeks previous, I'd probably have done the same but now I can't find the humour in it. "Oh man, what did you do?" Marvel chuckles.

"Locked the loser in Cashmere's parents' bathroom," says Gale.

My eyes widen and I almost forget to laugh with everyone else. I fake a laugh which still doesn't match Glimmer's over exaggerated trill. She slaps Gale's arm and covers her mouth in this painfully fake manner. I swallow more beer and fan myself. Has it gotten warmer in here?

"How long do you plan on keeping him there?" I ask.

Gale shrugs, throwing his own arm around Glimmer like it's the ultimate 'this is my girlfriend' gesture. Marvel's arm feels like deadweight on my shoulders and I want nothing more than to lean forward and get the damn thing off me. "I don't know. Probably until Delly comes looking for him."

"God, poor girl," Glimmer sighs. "Out of everyone her parents could have known in High School, it had to be Fatboy Mellark's folks."

I pick at a loose thread in the seam of my jeans and shrug. "I guess it's just hard luck."

"Didn't Delly and Mellark hang out in Middle School?" Marvel asks. "I think I remember them going to classes together. What happened?"

"The party at Snow mansion happened," Glimmer answers.

My ears prick up and I frown. "Snow mansion? What happened at Snow mansion?"

Glimmer is about to answer but then someone announces a Chugging competition in the kitchen which causes Gale and Marvel to bolt out of their seats. Glimmer immediately follows, moving so fast that she has to clutch her purple beret to her head and twittering about how she had to film Gale chugging to post on her Vine account.

I'm left sitting on my own. The party continues around me but I don't feel as into it as I had been before. I heave myself off the sofa and limp upstairs to the top floor. I'm not sure where Cashmere's parents' room is but after knocking on numerous doors-and apologizing to the kids hitting third base inside them-I finally happen upon a door that has a sign "DO NOT ENTER" on it. When I peer inside, the double bed makes me think that it has to be the folks' room.

I don't even know why I'm doing this. I don't owe Mellark anything. Not yet. I haven't passed anything. All he has showed me is how to do a couple of algebra questions. But still, something sits unhappily inside me at the thought of leaving him in the bathroom to eventually be caught by Cashmere or worse her parents.

"Hello?" I rap my knuckles on the door beside the vanity table, guessing that it's the bathroom. "Anyone in there?"

"Occupied," A voice replies.

I roll my eyes and turn the handle, muttering, "I swear to God if you're not decent . . ." as I enter.

Mellark is standing in the middle of the small bathroom, his hands tied to the shower curtain rail by what looks like the sash for a bathrobe. He jerks his head to the side, so I'm staring at the back of my head, and says, "Go away, Katniss. I don't need this right now."

"I'm here to free you, you numbskull," I spit back. I prop my crutches against the wall and reach up to grab the sash binding his wrists. "Jesus this is tied tight. Were Gale's parents in the Military or something?"

"I don't need your help," Mellark says.

"Sure looked like you didn't," I say sarcastically. I move around him to try to approach the task from another angle and Mellark turns his head to the other side again. "What the heck is your problem?" I roughly grab the front of his shirt and force him to turn back and look at me.

His eye-the one that Gale had previously bruise-is beginning to swell with a fresh cut skimmed along his eyelid. Added on top of that, on his forehead in what looks like scarlet red lipstick the words "FATBOY MELLARK" are carved into his skin. I'm taken aback by this and bump into the sink as I move to back away.

"Oh God," I say.

"Don't even," Mellark says, looking away from me again. "Please just help me get free."

I resume my job of loosening the bindings. While I do this, I notice multiple cuts along his arms and wrists. "So, how'd you get the marks?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation.

"What marks?" Mellark asks defensively.

"On your arms," I say.

"I don't know," he says, so fast my sentence is barely finished before he speaks.

I blink in surprise. "Erm, okay, I guess." Weird.

The sash comes free and I whoop in triumph. I turn to Mellark, expecting him to be equally as happy. Instead he mutters a quick thank you while pulling his sleeves down into his hands before leaving the bathroom as fast as possible. He leaves me in the bathroom, clutching the purple sash in my hands and wondering what the hell just happened.


	5. Taking a Hit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss makes a sacrifice to ensure Peeta's safety. A sacrifice that might be her undoing . . .

Chapter Five

"Mellark!" I yell, hobbling after him out of the bathroom. Mellark is too fast, his lithe frame making it easy for him to weave around the kids crowding the halls. He has disappeared within seconds. Honestly, I don't know why I felt the impulse to follow him. Something about the way he just darted off was so strange . . . Was I particularly offensive? I don't recall saying anything nasty to him. If I didn't have a broken leg, I'd have caught up with him no problem. But I do and I must haul a two ton cast around while beating people out of the way with my crutches. Mellark has already vanished before I can push halfway down the first hallway.

"Katniss!"

I close my eyes and grit my teeth. Just great. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I spin around and say, "Hey Marvel." He has that slimy smirk on his face that never fails to make me feel sick. He grabs my wrist and drags me into Cashmere's parent's room. "What are you doing? This room is out of bounds. You know those rumours about her folks doing coke and hiding it under the mattress!"

"Let's fuck with your stalker in the next room!" Marvel declares, shutting the door to make sure no one comes in.

"Are you mad?!" I exclaim. "No!"

Marvel thumps the bathroom door. The door in which he thinks Mellark is behind. He toes his shoes off and climbs onto the bed. I turn my nose up in disgust. God, he really thinks I'm going to do this. "Come on," he says, waving me over. "I'm sure you're tired, walking around on your bad leg for so long."

"Marvel, I'm not having sex with you," I say. "What sort of girl do you think I am?"

"A horny one?" he guesses. I pick up a pillow and throw it at his face. He catches it and smirks. It disappears a second later. "Why not?"

"I needed a date to the party, not a fuck buddy," I scowl.

"I figured date insinuated fucking too," Marvel says.

Oh for Christ's sake . . . "Even if it did, do you really think I'd do it with Mellark in the next room?" I answer.

Marvel laughs. "What do you think of that, Fatboy?" he says loudly. "Katniss is worried about fucking with you in the room next door! It's no secret you nerds are perverts because you don't get any I suppose."

No response. Not that I'd expect Peeta to rise to Marvel's bait anyway.

"Hey, Mellark, I'm talking to you!" Marvel yells.

"Marvel"- I begin. He cuts me off by waving his hand in a clear 'shut up!' gesture. He stands up and goes to the door. "Marvel, just leave him alone."

Marvel throws the bathroom door open. "He's not fucking here!"

"Marvel," I repeat. I'm shocked to realize that I'm starting to panic. If Marvel discovers that I let Mellark go then my reputation is in jeopardy but if he thinks Mellark escaped on his own then he'll tell Gale and they'll . . . I dread to think what they'll do. "Leave it, Marvel. Clearly he's gone. There's more important things to worry about than Mellark."

Marvel scoffs and swipes the purple sash which had bound Mellark's hands together from where I left it on the floor. Not the best place, I'll admit, but I dropped it when Peeta made a bolt for it like a startled gazelle. "Like what? The sex you're not giving?" he asks. "If I'm not getting some pussy tonight then I'm going to have to go for the alternative."

"Alternative?" I question weakly.

"I'm going to find that geeky son of a bitch and show him what it costs to make a fool out of us," Marvel angrily mutters.

"Marvel!" I grab his wrist as he makes for the door and cry out in pain when he refuses to stop for a few more seconds, hence dragging me along behind him. "Wait!" He stops and looks at me, nostrils flaring in rage. I already saved Peeta once tonight, I'm not completely sure why I'm determined to keep doing it.

I suppose the main reason is that he didn't choose to be here tonight. I can imagine that he would prefer to be at home doing his homework or something, not stuck at an all-nighter party babysitting a girl he's grown away from. If Peeta maybe had had a stroke or something and believed that he was welcome here, coming on his own free will, maybe my feelings would be different. Maybe.

"What?" Marvel snaps.

I think on my feet and throw my crutches to the floor, lifting my hands to the zipper of my jacket and pulling to down to reveal the tight tank top I'd thrown on in the off-chance that the jealousy would be too much for Gale to handle and that he'd drag me into a room and have his way with me. It's one of my better tops too, the ones that I love because they push my breasts up and make them seem bigger than they really are.

"I thought you said you wanted this?" I ask, cocking my head in faux innocence. Would it be rude if I threw up at the way he's looking at me right now? His eyes have darkened to this unnatural black colour. I recognize the look from when we used to date. "Or is Mellark more important than that?"

Marvel is on me in a second. He has always reeked of desperation. I don't know whether he just doesn't get sex outside from when we dated or he is just addicted to sex but every time it is proposed to him, it's like he has get to it immediately. He pounces on me-or any other girl he dates-like he's a lion and they're a piece of meat.

At least he's considerate enough to carry me because I ditched my crutches. He lies me on Cashmere's parents' bed and straddles me like my hips are a saddle. I suppose it isn't too bad. Sex is sex. I'm not going to pretend I haven't had it before and it's not like this is my first time. So really this distraction benefits me more than it would benefit anyone else. Well, maybe it benefits Marvel just a tiny bit more.

The thing is, Marvel isn't bad at sex. In fact, he's alright. I wouldn't say mind blowingly amazing-I've never had an orgasm with him-but the stuff he can do is pretty good. He can get quite a few moans from me but when put up against everyone else who I've done it with, what he gets from me is very plain.

I lift my arms as Marvel pulls off my shirt. He claimed my lips and massaged my bare breasts in his hands, his nickname of 'gropey' coming into play here. He pinches my nipples before sliding his lips down my chest and takes one in his mouth. I have to admit, this does feel nice, and I sigh in content, letting him do what he wished. I suppose 'content' shouldn't really be something once should feel during foreplay but that's exactly what I did feel. Completely . . . okay.

"How do you get your trousers off with this on?" Marvel mutters, his teeth grazing my hard nipple as he spoke.

"Just stick your hand in, the effort isn't worth the time," I reply.

Marvel latches his lips onto my nipple again and stuffs his hand down my pants. I wince, the feeling of his skin grazing my own in such an intimate place making my stomach churn. Why am I doing this again? He seems to have no clue on how to pleasure women as he sticks his finger right in and goes straight for my clit.

I jump in surprise, my gasp of shock being mistaken for pleasure. "Marvel, stop, you're doing it wrong," I snap, yanking his hand out and trying to slow my breathing. "Directly stimulating my clit hurts, you ass!"

Marvel doesn't seem bothered. He flicks the button open on my jeans and slides them down my thighs, stopping where my cast begins. I lie back and let him, shaking my uninjured leg out of jeans in case he decides to go right for the painful places again. When he takes his own jeans and pants off, he looks at me for a reaction. I almost forget to look impressed at his average sized cock and raise my eyebrows last minute, licking my lips as if I want this to happen. Only an idiot would fall for such an unrealistic act but . . . then again . . . Marvel was always a bit of a twat anyway and he would fall for anything if it meant getting some sex.

He strokes himself for a minute or two and I have to force myself to think of something else if I have any chance of getting wet. I think of Gale; of what it would be like if Gale was the one doing this with me. He'd be much more experienced, know much more than Marvel would. He'd caress my breasts while suckling on my nipples. He'd finger me delicately, not go right in for the kill with my clit. Damn, I wish this was Gale. I'd wouldn't have to pretend if it was Gale.

"Ready for me?"

Is that question really valid? I wonder how Marvel would react if I told him how I really felt. You know, 'fuck, no'? Instead I nod and breathe shallower so my chest heaves more, pretending to look like I'm so overcome with lust to the point that I can't speak.

Annoyingly, I remember every painful second where Marvel is inside me. He pounds me hard-nothing changed in that regard, still overeager-and thinks that just because he's also palming my boobs that I'm going to get off too. I'm not completely sure where that logic comes from, maybe it's a general guy consensus that if girls' boobs are being rubbed then they'll get off? Ha, that's a joke. That's like saying rubbing a guy's ass is enough to get him off!

Marvel is so lost in his own pleasure that he doesn't notice I'm drifting. At first I think I'm going to think of Gale again but I don't. I worry about Mellark. The thought comes into my head that maybe he's been caught by Gale and might be having the living shit punched out of him. The idea makes me want to get up now and go in search of Gale but I can't. I will owe Mellark even more . . .

For some bizarre reason, I wonder if Mellark would be any good at sex. I picture that he's above me instead of Marvel. I can't imagine him being as rough but the idea of the nerd above me . . . naked . . . muscles rippling and glasses askew . . . actually makes my blood heat up and I cry out in surprise as an unfamiliar rush flushes through me.

Fuck, did I just orgasm?

Marvel finishes too and looks proud of himself as his eyes take in my weak, flushed body. Yeah, fuck you asshole, it wasn't you that made me . . . Wait, does that mean . . . ?

"Time to find Mellark," Marvel pants after a couple of minutes.

"What?!" I bolt upright and try to grab Marvel as he gets off the bed. I'm not fast enough. "I thought you said"-

"The kid needs put in his place still," says Marvel. He winks at me. "I'll dedicate this beating to you and your monstrous orgasm, baby."

"Marvel!" I scream at him. "Don't you dare"-

Marvel salutes me and leaves the room after only putting his pants back on. He wants to make it clear that he just fucked me to everyone else at the party. Argh!

I quickly pull my panties back up and stuff my leg back into my jeans. My shirt is on the floor at the end of the bed and I have to claw my way over to it, dragging my cast along behind me like a deadweight. Once my shirt is back on-never mind the bra, no time-and I've liberated my crutches, I heave myself to my feet and move as fast as I can to reach the door.

The hallways are clear. That's odd. As I clamour down the stairs, I can vaguely hear cheering outside. I trip over beer cans and rubbish as I make my way to the living room window. There's a crowd outside cheering someone on. Oh fuck.

"Katniss!"

Clove rushes in from the kitchen, arms filled with more beer bottles. "Marvel is beating up Mellark! It's fucking hilarious, I'm just bringing out some refreshments. Y'know, for the onlookers. I was thinking a dollar a pop, what'dya think?"

"Why hasn't Mellark left yet?" I mutter, feeling annoyed with Peeta for not getting the hell out of the party while I was distracting Marvel.

"I think he wanted to. He was trying to peel Delly off the walls so they could go but she refused to be easy," Clove laughs.

"I have to help him," I say, pushing away from the window and hobbling to the door.

"Are you mad?!" Clove barks after me. She grabs my arm and spins me around. "Or are you just drunk?"

"Fuck off Clove, Mellark doesn't stand a chance! Marvel will kill him! He's drunk and he's angry! Do you really want to be responsible for selling beer at a murder site?!" I yell.

Clove's eyes widen. "Good point." She ditches the beer and runs to the door, holding it open for me as I limp out. We may hate the nerds, but I doubt anyone would want to see them actually . . . well . . . you know, dead.

The cheering of the crowd of drunks outside is nearly deafening. Clove knows the only person Marvel will listen to is me and therefore grabs one of my two crutches and uses it to beat people out of the way. I struggle after her, hopping through the pathways she clears. The crowd stinks of alcohol and sweat, the air thick with testosterone and fear.

I stumble when I get out the other side and Clove shoves my crutch back into my hand so I can regain balance. She freezes and takes a hesitant step back. "Uh . . ." she trails off.

"What?!"

The first thing I see is Mellark. I feel sick at the way he's curled up in the grass, clutching his stomach like he's about to throw up, his face bruised and bleeding. I think his nose is broken . . . judging by the way it's twisted anyway. After that I see Marvel, standing over Mellark's body like he's wants to jump in again, but there's a hand on his chest, holding him back.

Cato?

What the hell?

"That's enough, Marvel," Cato says firmly.

"I don't think the nerd has gotten the message!"

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Marvel. If you keep this up, he'll end up in hospital. If he ends up in hospital then there will be a police inquiry. If there's a police inquiry then you're going to get yourself arrested and I sure as hell am not going to lie for you." Cato gave Marvel a push and offered Mellark a hand up. "There you go squirt. Now get the hell out of here before someone else decides to tenderise you."

"I need to bring Delly home," Peeta answers. His voice is so quiet and hoarse, I can only assume this is what he said judging by Cato's response.

"I'm sure one of the very few sober patrons here will drive Delly home later," says Cato.

I watch Peeta as the crowd disperses. As he picks up his jacket and winces as he shrugs it on. He's limping away when I spot something in the grass. I pick it up and sigh at the sight of his glasses, with a broken lens and swinging leg. "Peeta!" I call. He stops and glances over his shoulder.

"What?" he croaks.

"Your . . . your glasses," I say, holding them out of him.

"Keep them. I have spares at home." Without another word he leaves. The crowd has panned out and the party as resumed but suddenly I'm not in the mood to have fun.

I pocket Peeta's glasses and start for home.

~xXx~

Mellark is in school on Monday. I don't know why this surprises me but when I see him sitting at the table near the window in form class I'm almost taken aback. It's clear that Marvel's beating took its toll, if the stiff way he moves and the bruises are anything to go by, but for some reason he hasn't taken off sick. Is attendance really that important to him? Even his nose is bandaged up, broken like I'd suspected.

"Did you hear?" Clove asks as soon as she plops into the desk next to mine. I jolt in shock, not having realized that I had been staring intensely at the back of Mellark's head ever since I sat down, trying to figure out what his deal is.

"Hear what?" I ask, breaking my gaze from Mellark's blond head to focus on Clove.

"Someone's been spreading stuff about Cato," she explains to me in a hushed voice.

I roll my eyes. "And? So what? People spread shit all the time. Only difference between them and this idiot is that it's clear whoever this twit is has a death wish," I say. "I mean, god, who decides-out of everyone in the school-that they're going to spread lies about Cato, of all people? They've clearly decided that either (A) they don't like the colouring of their skin or (B) they don't want to live anymore but can't be assed tying a noose."

Clove props her chin on her hand, clearly unimpressed by my reaction. Her chocolate eyes slide around in an arch and she mutters, "You didn't even ask what they're spreading about him."

"Fine," I sigh. "What are they spreading about him?"

Ever since Cashmere's party, it's been no secret that rumours have been bouncing around as to why Cato intervened when he did. I just thought that he was protecting Marvel, since it was clear that the antagonist himself had been past the point of coherent thought and would probably have beat Mellark until he died of internal injuries. However, random theories have been bobbing around from those sorts of people who have no purpose to their lives other than spreading things that are untrue about others. I haven't listened to any of the bullshit that has been slipping down the grapevine. Until now, that is.

"Something about Cato only stopping Marvel when he did because he has the hots for Mellark," Clove explains.

I snort. "What? Seriously? That's just stupid. Just because Cato's gay doesn't mean he fancies everything with a dick. Certainly not a dick from Loser's End."

"Tell that to whoever started the rumour," Clove says. "You'd think most would know that Cato wouldn't associate himself with a loser like Fatboy but since, well, I dunno, since it's about same gender couples or whatever the student body is believing it easier than they would if, say, someone started a rumour that you had the hots for the nerd."

I frown to myself. "His name's Peeta," I mutter. "Not Fatboy."

"Right," Clove says, dragging the word out slowly. "Anyway, here's the weird part, Cato hasn't come out and said they're wrong. Is that strange or am I reading into it too much?"

"I don't know Clove, it doesn't seem that strange," I tell her. "Cato is a smart guy, he probably knows that gossip is gossip. It will pass just like it always does. We just have to wait until another girl gets pregnant or trips in the hallway so her skirt flies up and exposes her ass."

Clove laughs and the topic drops. Gossip comes hand in hand with being in such a bitchy place. I don't think I've ever seen lies spread as rapidly as it does in High School. Sure, Middle School would sometimes have the odd mistruth but it was more of a subdued nature. Not sexuality or anything heavy like that.

I thought that since I'm getting tutored math after school I wouldn't have to go to Mr. Abernathy's pairs but it seems that I do. We're learning algebra and on this particular day we're split into groups and told to make a huge polygon out of small triangles. Each side of the triangles either has a sum or an answer. One side sometimes has nothing, which would be for the outside of the polygon. To make the polygon a sum must be matched with an answer.

Mr. Abernathy isn't annoying like the other teachers in the school, I suppose my loathing for him is rooted more in the subject he teaches. He lets us choose our own pairs. Usually, Clove, Glimmer and I would ask for a three way group, which Abernathy always allowed. Except this time Glimmer immediately joins up with Cashmere. Not that Clove and I were going to ask her over anyway. The bitch has practically ignored us ever since I came back. The only time we've spoken was the brief conversation at Cashmere's party.

"Algebra," Clove grunts between her teeth. She's struggling with the scissors, not having realized that they're left-handed, and is aggressively trying to cut out the triangles for the polygon. "Why couldn't it be the two times tables or something?"

I pick up each triangle and arrange them out in rows, just to have something to do. The weather outside is atrocious, the rain battering the window like thousands of tiny pebbles being fired at the glass. The greyness of the outside contrasts with the artificial light inside and the room is almost unbearably bright because of this. I look at the equations on the sides of the triangle and slowly arrange them around so they fit.

Clove pauses her cutting and looks at my hands moving the triangles around. She only has a few more to cut out and I'll have a look at those in a moment. "Just randomly guessing?" she asks.

"It's easy," I tell her. "Just do it backwards."

"Huh?"

I take the paper out of Clove's hand and snip off one of the triangles. "Look. 2x + 7= 47. Instead of adding it, subtract. Forty seven subtract seven equals . . . ?"

"Forty," Clove says slowly, if a little unsurely.

"And instead of multiplying, divide. Forty divided by two is . . . ?"

"Twenty."

"Exactly! So x is twenty!" I frown. "I think." I'm still not confident with this. When I'm doing it after school with Mellark, he checks over my answers for me. The green ticks beside each of my answers sort of gives me a comforting reassurance that I don't have in class. I almost go to his desk and bring him over to our table to ask what he thinks. I couldn't even if I wanted to though because he's been pulled out of class for something. Principal Snow probably wants to talk about what happened at Cashmere's party. Maybe force Marvel and him to talk about their issues with Ms. Trinket and her sock puppets.

"Well, here's twenty anyway," says Clove, taking the triangle with the number twenty on one side and putting it beside the 2x + 7 =47 one. "If we're wrong, well fuck it, what else is new?"

I basically do the rest. Clove isn't exactly as bad as me at maths but she isn't a whiz either. Where I get tripped up on everything, she stumbles at questions that involve letters instead of numbers, which don't make up an entire exam and explains why she passes and I don't.

The polygon turns out to be a hexagon. Huh. We actually did it. Abernathy passes us on his way to the storage cupboard (where everyone knows his booze stash is) and glances down at my work. "Good job, Katniss. The tutoring seems to be paying off," he says. I don't want to admit that he's right but . . . well, the evidence is right there on the desk.

Whether I like it or not, Mellark's smarts have been rubbing off on me.

~xXx~

"Thank you."

"What?"

"I said thank you."

"But why?"

I plop down onto the seat across from Mellark with a soft 'thump'. The library is completely empty, meaning I don't even have to bother being cautious about what I say. Mellark is staring at me incredulously, as if I have two heads. "Because your help is paying off," I reluctantly admit.

Mellark raises his eyebrows. "Really? I didn't think you'd ever open up to something like that. Even if it was helping," he tells me.

"Don't expect it often," I huff. I unzip my bag and slap my books onto the table. Despite myself, something that feels like concern wells up inside me and I find myself muttering, "Were you hurt much?"

There's a silence that isn't too long but is long enough for me to wonder if Peeta is going to answer me or not.

"I've had worse," he replies.

I risk a glance at him. "Your nose . . . is it broken?"

"Fractured," Peeta clarifies.

"I'm sorry about Marvel, really," I feel compelled to tell him. "He's a baboon at best. Clove and I were actually coming to stop him but . . . well . . ." I glance at my leg and back up at him. "I'm not very fast right now and, uh, I was kinda stuck upstairs." I don't know why I'm telling Peeta this. I shouldn't care whether he knows that I tried to stop the fight or not. In fact, I don't even know why I wanted to stop the fight in the first place.

"Marvel told everyone where you were," Peeta says. He brushes his hair over his left eye which seems to have taken a beating too. "He was pretty keen for your 'stalker' to know what you two had been up to."

I groan and cover my face with my hands in shame. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I only went to the party with him anyway to"-

"Make Gale Hawthorne jealous," Peeta finishes.

My eyes widen. "How did you . . . ?"

"You may be popular Katniss but you're as subtle as a train wreck on a boat," Peeta says. "Gale gets a new girlfriend while Madge isn't here and you're all of a sudden back with an old flame? It's like a game of Envy and Spite between you two. Can't people just say, 'hey, I like you, wanna go out for a milkshake?' anymore?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Milkshake?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Really, I shouldn't be surprised. Why would Peeta ask a girl anywhere other than a milkshake parlour or somewhere innocent like that? He doesn't seem like the heavy drinking type. Especially not in terms of alcohol. "Look, I don't expect you to understand," I say. "Have you even dated someone before? All you have is rumours about Cato having the hots for you."

Peeta snorts. "Cato? He doesn't even give me the time of day."

"Not that you really care, right? You nerds grew an immunity to that long ago," I say. "Besides, Cato's the only openly gay guy in the entire school. I'm not saying there aren't others-I'm sure there are-but out of everyone he'd crush on, why you? No offence but it's not like it would help your popularity status if someone like Cato did ask you out and you said no."

Peeta's eyebrow twitched. "We're getting off topic here," he pointed out. His voice held an edge to it. "I'm here to teach you trigonometry."

"Why so tetchy all of a sudden?" I challenge.

"I'm not tetchy."

"Yes, you are." I snatch the pencil out of Peeta's hand and hold it out of his reach. "Is it because you're single? I can set you up with someone if you want. Think of it as a thank you for helping me with this shit. What sort of girls do you like, I'm sure I know somebody within your taste range."

"Not everything is about dating, Katniss," says Peeta. He sounds exasperated. I suppose he has reason to be but I'm trying to figure out a way to thank him! Surely he realizes that I'm just trying to be helpful, which is something I don't do very often. If he dates one of my friends, maybe he'll climb up the food chain a little. Maybe people will stop calling him Fatboy and beating him up.

Maybe they'll see that he's not a bad guy . . .

The smile melts from my face. Wait, what?

"But it is, right?" I press, suddenly irritated with him. "Or is it what I told you about Cato annoying you? You'd be lucky if he had a crush on you since no one else seems to." I'm annoyed that Peeta has confused me; changed my perspective of him so drastically to the point where I'm just angry. The way I was when he first started tutoring me.

Peeta's eyebrow twitches again.

"It is!" I scowl. "You're one of those disgusting homophobes, aren't you?"

"Far from it." Peeta snatches the pencil back from me when my guard is down. He starts planning some trig questions.

"How so?"

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Peeta explains, "Why would I have a reason to be a homophobe if I, myself, am bi-sexual?"

My jaw unhinges in surprise. "No, you're not!" I exclaim. "You're lying!"

"I don't expect you to remember but I did date Thom in Middle School," Peeta tells me. "However, when he cheated on me with Delly I decided that maybe dating just isn't my thing."

I vaguely recall Peeta going around with some guy in Middle School. This was during his chubby years when he didn't walk as much as waddle . . . I also remember the same guy going behind the bleachers with Delly at lunch when Peeta was at Chess Club . . . Damn, how did I miss something so blatantly obvious?

"If I showed you my tits, does that mean you'd feel nothing?" I blurt out curiously.

"Please don't," Peeta deadpans. "I'm bi, not completely gay."

I cock my head and flutter my eyelashes sarcastically. "Does that mean you're attracted to me and want to see my tits?" I tease.

Peeta pushes the piece of paper he was writing on in front of me. "Trig. Now. Do those questions so I can find out what you know and what you don't." My latter question has seemed to throw him off and he stumbles over his words like a horror movie character in the dark.

"Aren't you worried about me going off and telling people?" I ask, taking the paper and pencil from him. I'm not planning on telling anyone but Peeta's honesty confuses me. Shouldn't he be worried about me gossiping to other people about the fact that he swings for both teams?

"I'm not ashamed of who I am, Katniss," says Peeta. He's taken out some homework to do while I complete the questions. By the looks of it Chemistry. He does the higher level work while most of us are just half assing the lower level. He looks over the top of his glasses at me. "Are you?"

His question surprises me. The blue of his eyes burns into me and I look away, focusing on the page with the trig questions on it. I'm not ashamed of who I am. Right? I've never really thought about it before, it's just always seemed like an easy answered question. Now I'm not so confident about it.

I try not to think about it. I throw myself into the work Peeta has given me and when I limp out of the library later with a piece of paper full of ticks and only one correction to do, I've banished the idea completely from my mind.

I am not ashamed.

I can't be.

. . .

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeta's sexuality doesn't affect the endgame which is most certainly Everlark!!


	6. Skin and Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While seeking extra help for her maths exam that is on the next week, Katniss discovers something about Peeta that she really wishes she hadn't. A dark secret he'd been trying to hide from not just her but everyone.

Chapter Six

The dance competition before the Homecoming Concert is at the end of the week but it clashes with some of the autumn exams. If I hadn't had my accident, I'd probably have a routine planned with Glimmer and Clove. Clove has decided not to bother, even though this is something we've been planning for for years. She said there's not point without me. I suppose I should be happy about that but I feel bad that Clove can't do it. It's my fault because of my leg and I wish there was someone else she could have made a routine with. Glimmer, of course, is planning something with Cashmere because it seems they have become BFFs now or whatever.

Now that I come to think about it, I can't see myself blowing off the autumn exams for the dance competition. Since everyone else is busy with their plans for the concert, I've been using some of the free time revising maths. It's weird, I've never voluntarily studied before but there really is nothing else to do. When my mother came home from work Thursday night and saw me sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded in books, she did a double take. Prim had to back me up when I said I'd been doing it for two hours.

"Yeah mum," she'd said, "she's been a real nerd today."

"I thought that Concert was this weekend," Mother says, walking around the table and flipping on the kettle. "Aren't you supposed to be, I don't know, planning what you're going to wear or something?"

"I don't think I'm going to go," I reply, drawing a mini-stick figure in the corner of my page. "I'm not fond of the idea of being jostled in a mosh pit, especially since my leg isn't any better. Besides, my first math repeat is on Monday. I need to get this stuff into my head."

My mother and Prim share a look. Their eyebrows are raised in almost disbelief but they also look sort of impressed as well. They disappear to their rooms once mother has made herself some tea, deciding that they shouldn't disturb the balance. As if they did the wrong thing at the wrong time I'd change completely and ditch studying for . . . I don't know . . . media or something. I look back down at my exercise book. There's a trigonometry question I can't understand. It's different from what I've been doing with Peeta but it's on a past paper so there's a chance it will be on my repeat on Monday.

I tap the table with my fingertips thoughtfully and glance at my phone. Does Peeta have a Facebook, I wonder? I grab my phone and open up the Facebook app. I have fifteen notifications, most of them messages from Marvel. He knows I deleted his contact off my phone so know he's taken to Facebook instead. I click on his profile link and press 'block' before going to the search bar.

I type in Peeta's name and wait for something to come up. His name is pretty unique so he's pretty much the only one to show up. I think it's him anyway. There's no picture. I click on the friends list, which consists mostly of the people from Loser's End. I consider just leaving it alone but the fear of this question actually showing up on my exam is niggling at the back of my head. "Eh, what's the harm?" I mutter before sending a friend request. It'd be much easier if I could just send him a direct message but I suppose this is the only way since his family's bakery is on the other end of town in the Merchant sector.

When I get a notification saying that the request was accepted, I immediately go to the message button and type, "Peeta, it's Katniss. There's this really complicated question I don't understand. It's trig, I know that much, I don't know what I'm supposed to do . . ."

There's quite a wait before he responds to me. I suppose it's because he isn't really a social media sort of guy and he wouldn't be on facebook that often. I try this bitch of a question five times over while I'm waiting but never get a sensible answer. By the time Peeta answers, I'm close to tearing my hair out.

"What does it ask?" he's asked me.

"It gives the numbers for two of this triangle's sides-including the hypotenuse!-and wants me to calculate the last side," I explain.

"Katniss, that's Pythagoras' Theorem, not Trig," Peeta tells me. "We haven't done that yet."

"But the exam is on Monday! What if I can't learn it in time?" I stare at the question irritably before declaring, "Are you going into school tomorrow?"

"For that silly competition? No, it's a waste of time," Peeta says. "Why?"

"Neither am I. Come over to mine around ten and you can start this Pythagoras stuff." I'm shocked that I'm even suggesting this but the more study sessions I've had with Peeta, the more determined I've become to pass my repeats and the final exam. "Do you know where I live?"

"The Seam Sector, right?"

"Yeah. My house is the very last. Very close to the forest. Number 74," I tell him.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Okay. I'll see you then."

~IAJOT~

Seeing Peeta out of school, in a more casual setting, is extremely jarring He dresses like a normal person his age but for some reason his appearance makes me do a double take.

I could swear that I just stand there and stare at him for five whole minutes when I answer the door for him. I didn't recognize him. Honestly, I didn't. We're experiencing a heat wave but he's wearing a thick cardigan that doesn't match the weather at all. The sun does this thing where it has an almost reflective effect on his hair. The rays make the blond look like blinding gold and before my eyes completely adjust it looks like he has a halo around his head.

He's actually . . . kind of hot. In his own shy school boy nerd sort of way.

As he sets up at my kitchen table, I can't take my eyes off him. The wounds from Cash's party are beginning to heal and the only sign of Marvel's rage is a black-blue bruise along the bridge of his nose. What's changed? Why is he having a siren effect on me now? What does the exchange of a white shirt, tie and slacks for jeans, sneakers and a black My Chemical Romance shirt do?

"You see it's actually quite easy," Peeta explains. I've snapped out of my weird trance (thank god) and watch the end of Peeta's pencil as he writes out some sums.

12x12 – 4x4= ?

I type out the sum into my calculator. "160," I say. Peeta writes that in and continues to say that all I have to do is square root 160, which gets me 12. 6491106407 which I round to 12.64.

"Then, if it's the hypotenuse you have to find, all you do is add instead of subtract," Peeta explains.

"Oh, I see," I say. Damn, some of this is so easy! Why couldn't I get it before? "Can you give me some tester questions, just to be sure?"

Peeta smiles. I'm struck by how rarely I actually see him do that. I conclude that he should do it more often. While he draws up some questions I stand up and ask, "Tea?"

"Sure, if you're making it," he answers.

I flip the kettle on and glance over my shoulder at him, almost as if double checking he's really there. "You can take your jacket off if you want," I tell him. "This house absorbs heat so well it's ridiculous."

"It's fine," Peeta answers. I wonder how he copes, since I'm sweltered and yet I'm wearing shorts and a tank top. "How's your leg?"

"Eh," I reply. I grab two mugs from the cupboard above the sink. No matter what the weather is, tea is always appropriate. "Although there is the odd ache. Kind of like a cramp or a growing pain, you know?"

"Yeah, I get what you mean," says Peeta. He pushes his glasses up, even though they're seated on his nose perfectly already. "That's probably your leg healing. How long did the doctor say it would take to heal?"

"Six months," I sigh. "It was a bitch of a break."

Peeta whistles in appreciation. When he hears me pouring the water he stands up to give me a hand. "That would be a compound fracture, right? Bone piercing through the skin?"

I scoff. "Is there anything you don't know?" I ask.

Peeta laughs. "Many things," he answers. "I still to this day don't understand football and poker."

"Poker?" I laugh. "Why in the world would you want to play poker?"

"I don't know, just to say that I can," Peeta says. He lifts his mug to his lips and smiles over the lip of it. His glasses steam up from the heat coming from it and I can't help chuckling.

"Here." I take the glasses off his face and wipe them clean with the hem of my top. I have to lean heavily on my crutches as I push forward to put them back on his face. His big blue eyes focus on me, aided by the glass windows placed just below them. I almost can't believe I had been disgusted by how inhumanly blue his iris' are that first day we studied together. I put up a front, even in my own mind. I find myself doing it a lot.

It's easy to lie, even to yourself . . .

I grin. "Poker's fun if you're looking for a gamble," I say. "Or, you know, a quick way to get to third base if you play the strip version." I brush the back of my hand across the word "ALONE" on his "I AM NOT AFRAID TO WALK THIS WORLD ALONE" t-shirt. I was supposed to be teasing him but I instantly freeze in shock at what I feel.

Peeta drops his mug and stumbles backwards. The mug smashes on the tiles beneath our feet. We stare at each other, completely stunned.

When I swiped my hand along his stomach, I felt bumps. Very prominent bumps. Not like small acne bumps that every teenager gets and that I myself solve with vigorous scrubbing every morning and evening. These are huge, ridged motherfucking bumps. They're long-ish too and from what the simple swipe told me they wind along his torso to his side.

I felt . . . his ribs.

It makes so much sense. The way he's thin and sort of lithe. "Oh God, I'm sorry," Peeta says. He runs his fingers through his hair and I notice that his hands are trembling. Oh my God, was his hand always that thin? I snatch his hand and look at it closer. It's so frail . . .

"Peeta, what the . . ." I say. "You're . . . you're . . ."

Peeta yanks his hand away and winces in pain. How hadn't I seen that? How hadn't I noticed before? It's like feeling his ribs has yanked a veil away from my eyes. His clothes are baggy . . . His hands are shaky . . .

"We should get back to work but . . ." Peeta looks away and rubs his hand over his eyes. "B-but I should clean up the shards . . . I didn't mean to break it. I-I'll find a brush or-or something."

"Peeta," I say, surprising myself by how authorative my voice is, "What have you been eating?"

"Wha-what sort of question is that?" Peeta asks. He laughs nervously and I know instantly that what I'm thinking is true.

"Are you . . ." I'm unsure about saying it out loud. "Peeta, are you . . . are you anorexic?"

The word makes Peeta's eyes widen. "I, um, how about you do those questions and show me on Monday? I've . . . I've got to go . . ."

"Peeta," I say, trying to reason with him. "It's . . . it's okay . . ." I grab his shirt when he turns to leave to stop him. The material bunches up and I notice something black on his hip.

"Katniss, please let me go," Peeta begs.

I can't stop myself now. I push his shirt up a little. His hipbone sticks out like a knife. There's something written on him in sharpie.

HANDLEBARS.

I recognize Peeta's own handwriting. "Peeta . . . what the . . . I don't . . ."

"I'm going to go," Peeta mutters. He slaps my hand away and leaves. I watch him go, completely dumbfounded. I want to say something; stop him from going; try to sit down and discuss things in a calm manner. I'm frozen to the spot, my voice caught in my throat, and I'm helpless to do anything as he goes.

Realization drops on me like a crippling weight. Fatboy Mellark. People have been calling him that since Elementary. Then all of a sudden he lost all that weight that one summer. Did it ever sink in for him? Did he ever realize that enough was enough? Oh my God, he's anorexic. Now that I think harder about it, ever since he lost weight, I have never seen him eat. I've seen him sit at a table with a tray of food but he's never actually eaten anything.

"Might want to ease off the fries, I'm beginning to see the flab again."

I sit down at the table and stare at my fridge. Oh my God, it's my fault. I never thought that the Loser's End kids took anything I said seriously, Peeta especially.

I have to talk to him about this. I have to understand.

~IAJOT~

For once, Peeta is late to our study session on Monday. The Concert was apparently a boring bust with old bands and singers no-one recognized but the teachers. I'm not entirely sure how my repeat went. I did what I could because there really wasn't anything else I could do . . . I have a horrible feeling that I failed. I sort of have a sixth sense about that sort of thing. And I'm never wrong.

When Peeta does show up, I can almost feel how on guard he is. I can't stop thinking about how his ribs felt under my fingertips. The way his hipbone jutted out so prominently. That word. Handlebars. He sits down across from me and doesn't say anything for ages. We stare at each other, neither of us making a move to take out our books.

"Katniss," he finally says, "about what happened"-

"Are you going to be honest?" I ask.

"What do you mean honest?" Peeta frowns.

"It would be unwise to lie," I press, "because I know what I saw. What I felt when I touched you. Peeta, starving yourself isn't the answer. It's unhealthy, it's . . . it's . . ."

"I'm not anorexic!" Peeta snaps. He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. "I'm not anorexic," he repeats, much quieter. "I just . . . I'm just never hungry."

"Bullshit, Mellark," I snap. I immediately feel bad for being so brash and try to soften my tone. "You're not fat, Peeta . . . You were just fine."

"Were?" Peeta looks panicked. The idea of still not being good enough through my use of past tense clearly worrying him.

"You're . . . you're too thin," I say carefully. "When you came back to School after that summer, you were fine. You had muscle, there was no . . . bones visible. You've maybe gone too far . . . maybe you just couldn't find the right balance." I slip my hand into my pocket and slide a pack of crackers across the table. "Eat one of these and I'll leave it be."

"I'm not hungry."

"You don't have to be. Just one little piece. Just to prove your point." I open the packet and snap off a corner of the top cracker. Peeta stares at it in my hand, like I'm offering him a radioactive reptile. He takes the cracker piece off me and pushes it past his lips. It looks so forced I resist the urge to wince. I raise my eyebrows as he just holds it there. No chewing. No swallowing.

Minutes later, Peeta literally turns green. He turns away from me and coughs into his hands. "There, I've swallowed it," he says to me, even opening his mouth to prove it.

"Hands?" I ask.

"What about them?"

"Open them."

Peeta looks at his hands and chews on the inside of his cheek. He parts his hands and the cracker piece falls onto the table. I stare at it in disbelief. "I don't have to do anything you tell me to. Why are you so pushy anyway? It's none of your business what I eat."

"I'm not heartless," I say. I hesitantly reach out and touch his thin hand. "I know I've been a bitch to you . . . to your friends too. I'm probably the last person you want to go to for help. But please, trust me, if you don't get help from someone you're going to do yourself serious damage." Peeta sets his jaw and doesn't answer me. I look at my fingers wrapped around his wrist. "What are handlebars?"

Peeta is also looking at my hand holding onto his. "Handlebars," he repeats.

"You wrote it on your hip," I explain. I suddenly wonder if I'm going to seem like I'm prying. I can't just ignore it though. Being anorexic can lead to death, can't it? I don't want to see Peeta dead. I don't want to see anyone dead. Definitely not Peeta . . .

"I don't have to tell you anything," Peeta repeats.

"Would you like me to tell Ms. Trinket? You could tell her," I say. I don't want to sound like I'm blackmailing him but if I don't understand what's happening then I'll have to say something to someone. Clove and I even told Glimmer that if she didn't stop throwing up her food we'd have to tell someone. I don't think she's stopped but there's no evidence anymore that she still is.

Peeta scowls at me. "Handlebars is what I have. It's what you call fat hips," he reluctantly tells me.

"And you wrote it on yourself to say . . . ?"

"It's called motivation," Peeta scowls. "I don't expect you to understand. You've always been . . . been . . ."

I cock my head and frown. "I've always been what?"

Peeta's eyes soften and he rubs his temples tiredly. "Perfect," he mutters.

Oh. I . . . I don't know how to respond to that. "I'm not perfect," I find myself saying.

"Don't start with that bullshit, Katniss," Peeta scoffs. "We all know that you know you're perfect. All of you cheerleader types are the same. I know you've never as much looked at yourself in the mirror and saw something you didn't like."

I think about it. I've always been happy with my appearance. However, I've never also looked at myself and thought that I was perfect. I'm above average, thankfully. I'm not perfect though. There are things I would fix, just like anyone else. I'm far from perfect. No-one's perfect. Peeta can't honestly think that I'm perfect. In fact, I should be the opposite of perfect in his eyes. I should be the big bad bastard who's bullied him for . . . for . . . well, I don't know how long.

"If you're trying to be perfect then you're going to be waiting a long time," I hiss at him. I don't like being called perfect and the fact that Peeta is so set in his belief that I am irks me. "No-one's perfect and just because you're thin doesn't mean you are. Starving yourself isn't going to achieve anything other than sticking one foot in the grave. Is that what you want?" It's a good thing the library is empty, or someone would have sent for a teacher by now.

"It's better than the life I'm living now!" Peeta explodes.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"As in life isn't as picture perfect as you think it is, Katniss. You got a glimpse of it when you broke your leg. You've been having glimpses of it ever since then. But you'll never fully see it because you got lucky. I would rather die," Peeta says, so fast his words run together. I can barely keep up with his rant and I can barely keep up with his what he's trying to tell me.

"Why don't you just kill yourself then?" I don't mean it sincerely. I don't want Peeta to kill himself. I don't want anyone to kill himself. I wouldn't want anyone to kill themselves. The question, however, still stands.

"Because I am a coward, Katniss," Peeta snaps. "You will never meet a bigger coward than me."

I feel sick. This whole conversation is making me sick. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say or what I could say that could make this situation any better. I want to help, a feeling I've never experienced before. If I went to a teacher, Peeta would most likely be pulled out of school and taken to hospital to be kept in a ward and force fed every day. It's weird but I don't want him to go anywhere. He would never forgive me, either.

"You aren't a coward," I say. "You're just . . . just going through a difficult time."

"Difficult time? You mean difficult times you and your friends have been throwing gasoline on and setting fire ever since elementary school?" Peeta fires at me.

I clench my jaw and push away the guilt that threatens to cripple me. "I would never have done it if I'd known"-

"You shouldn't do it, period," Peeta interrupts.

I stare at my hands and close my eyes. "I know," I say, so quietly that I don't know if Peeta hears me. I do, too. Over the past few weeks, I've been seeing what I have done to people at the bottom of the food chain in a new light. Food chain. God, what the fuck is up with the jungle analogies anyway? It's a school, not the animal kingdom. I rub my hand over my face. "I can't say sorry, can I? It wouldn't do anything, would it?"

Peeta's eyes are unreadable. It's almost like he can't believe that I even asked such a thing. "Sorry isn't a quick fix-it," he says slowly. "But it's a start."

I remove my hand from my eyes and find something similar to relief flush through me. "I'm sorry," I say. I used to think the word was poisonous, like if I said it my mouth would burn or my spit would turn to tar. Especially if I said it to someone from Loser's End. "I didn't think you took anything I said seriously."

Peeta shrugs. "You'd be surprised, Katniss," he murmurs. "You have no idea the effect you can have."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. I think of his ribs again. Of how I felt them under my fingers. It scares me. I threw fuel onto the boy in front of me's determination to starve himself to the point where is body is a couple of dress sizes above being a skeleton. "You have to stop this though. Keep doing this and you're going to . . . you're going to . . ."

"Die?" Peeta raises his eyebrows. "Small miracles, Katniss. Small miracles."

"Don't take like that," I say, shaking my head.

"Would it really be that bad? Nobody needs me."

My fingers tighten subconsciously around his wrist. "I do. I need you," I tell him.

He scoffs. "Yeah, for cheap math advice."

"You're more than that," I insist. "You . . . have your friends! Johanna, Annie, Finch! What about your family, they"-Peeta scoffs and I pause. " . . . They surely need you."

"Katniss, don't," Peeta tells me. "It's nice and all that you're suddenly so concerned but it's exactly that. Sudden. I know what you're going to do to me Katniss. You're going to tell your friends. You're going to tell your friends about poor old Fatboy Mellark who's starving himself because he can't handle looking in the mirror every morning and seeing somebody who is going to get nowhere in life because all anyone else sees is a geeky fat boy!"

I wince. "I won't, I promise. I may not be the nicest of people but I always keep my promises. Just . . . let me help."

"How can you help me?" Peeta scoffs.

I reach out and felt my heart skip a beat at how my hands are about two sizes away from being bigger than his. I cup both of my hands over one of his and say, "I can try and help you be happy." Because it's clear that he isn't. I didn't see it until now. Masked by beautiful azure eyes is a greater sadness I have never seen or felt before.

Maybe if he is happy, he won't starve himself anymore.

Maybe if he is happy, he won't want to die anymore.

I can't let him die.

I won't.


	7. A Surprise Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta try to spend time together in a casual setting. Katniss wants to prove to Peeta that she's not going to treat him differently because of his illness. Except things aren't as black and white as they seem and something unexpected happens that almost ruins everything.

Before now, when I thought about anorexia, I thought about the girls in the NHS television adverts or the super thin cheerleaders who are so gangly they're close to snapping. Never did I think of someone like Peeta. One of the worst things you can call a girl is fat because immediately you are increasing their risk of wanting to be thinner, increasing the risk of anorexia also. Why doesn't that apply as much to boys? They don't deserve to be called fat either and they're just as likely to care about their appearance . . .

"Channing Tatum?"

"No. Too cliché. Everyone loves him. I can't see why, really."

"Okay . . . hmm . . . Brad Pitt?"

"Eh."

"Come on! Brad Pitt is sexy."

"Borderline okay."

"Jeez, man, you're killing me here. Okay, uh, Ansel Elgort?"

"I suppose. Better than most."

"I'm getting warmer, aren't I? I'm thinking franchises now. Hmmm . . ." I tap my finger against my chin thoughtfully. I'm playing a game with Peeta at my house of 'Would you rather'. Well, I say it's a game of would you rather. It's more a game of I spout out random names of guys and Peeta tells me which one he would buck if given the chance. I want to see if our tastes match up.

When I researched how to support people with anorexia, it said to include them in things as if there's nothing wrong. Before now, Peeta and I have barely interacted besides during our study sessions but the more time I spend with him outside the confines of mathematical problems, the more I'm seeing how much of a cool guy he is. Which is kind of jarring for me since I'd always thought he'd be as dull as a rock.

I also want to try and slip visiting the hospital into our conversations. If I can't tell anyone, I might as well try to nudge him in the direction of seeing a doctor. So far it's been unsuccessful but it's only been a few days so I'm going to keep trying.

I quirk an interested eyebrow at Peeta, who is sitting across from me on my living room couch. There's a plate on the coffee table in front of us, the resting place of two tuna mayo sandwiches. I'm not going to push Peeta to eat anything but I leave food out as tiny incentives. Peeta's head is resting against the backrest of the couch and his eyes are closed. I never noticed until I discovered the truth about him that he actually is tired very often. In school his concentration is scattered and he completes all his work at home. He used to take dizzy turns in class but Clove used to laugh and come up with some stupid story about being ill and still coming into school. Stories I used to laugh at . . .

"Josh Hutcherson?"

There's a pause.

Peeta can't fight the smile that comes onto his face, followed by a pink blush. I grin. "Ha ha! I knew I'd get there!" I declare. "Even though you're clearly delusional since you believe that Brad Pitt and Channing Tatum aren't worth it."

Peeta rolls his eyes. "I am very particular in my tastes," he says.

"I can see that," I smile. I clamour off the sofa and pick up the plate, walking into the kitchen and taking a quick bite before returning. I don't feel right eating in front of him. It almost feels like I'd be mocking him. On my way back, I glance forlornly at my mother's room. She's a doctor. If she ever saw him, her medical eye would immediately know that he wasn't well. She could help Peeta, if I told her that he needed it. But I can't. It feels so close and yet so far.

"Are you going to the Past to Present ceremony?" I ask, wiping any sign of the sandwich off of my face.

Peeta quirks his eyebrow at me. "Katniss, go back in the kitchen and finish your food. I'm not going to have a seizure or a panic attack because I see you eating something. I've been doing this for many years now. I'm conditioned to be able to resist."

"Resist," I repeat. "Resist means that you want it. Why resist something you need?"

"I am not right yet, Katniss," Peeta explains. "Not yet."

"When will you be right?" I ask.

"I will decide that."

I sit down beside him again. The sofa cushions are cold from my departure and feel cool against my skin. "I suppose you won't listen to me if I said that I think you're just fine?" I ask.

"I appreciate your concern, Katniss. I really do. The change that you have undertaken since you broke your leg is mindboggling. But you are still afraid of what society will think." Peeta looks at me and smiles. "That's why we hang out here. You don't want to be seen with me."

I shake my head in denial. "You're wrong"-

"It's okay, Katniss. Baby steps. I understand that."

I look away from him in shame. "I'm sorry," I mutter.

I shouldn't care about what everyone else thinks. Now that I have concluded with absolute finality that there is nothing wrong with Peeta, I shouldn't care what Gale or Glimmer or Clove or Cato think of me. But I do. Why do I care so much? There's a part of me that doesn't want to even have Gale take me to the Homecoming Dance. I still want the popularity, however. It's like my being craves it. I want to push it away but it keeps returning.

Peeta still smiles at me. I feel it burning into the side of my face. When I look back at him now, his smile is completely contagious and I find myself smiling back. My eyes fall to his torso, which I can't help looking at every few minutes, and my hand twitches. "Can I . . .?"

Peeta looks apprehensive but he nods anyway. "Go ahead," he says.

I reach out with a nervous hand and touch his side. I can feel the bumps again. Except when I move my palm up, they continue up until his breast plate, confirming the suspicion that they are his ribs. "How can you think that this is better than the way you were before?" I ask quietly.

"At least this way I'm not fat," Peeta answers.

"You weren't fat," I mutter.

"My nickname seems to contradict that statement."

My fingers reach Peeta's collarbone, two huge contusions which meet just below his neck. "You shouldn't listen to what those other idiots say about you," I say. "They think saying bad things about other people makes them bigger than they actually are. Take it from someone who knows."

Peeta touches my hand and our eyes meet. Am I going mad or are the blue of his eyes getting more and more beautiful every day? "It's not the people at school I listen to," he says to me.

"Then who do you listen to?" I ask.

"Only the ones I care about."

"And who do you care about?"

Silence.

I look at Peeta's hand which rests on top of mine. When our eyes meet again I realize what he means. "How long?" I ask nervously.

"Since you sang in the music assembly in pre-K," Peeta answers, looking away from me.

"Oh Peeta," I whisper. I can't believe it. It almost feels like he's joking, pulling my leg because I've bullied him for so long and admitting such a thing would seem ridiculous. But I do remember singing in pre-K. How would Peeta remember if he didn't hold some sort of affection towards me? He's the last person I'd think cared about me.

And I spent most of my school years despising him.

I'm a horrible person.

"Why me?" I ask. "I'm a bitch . . ."

"It's not your fault," says Peeta. "I spent a lot of elementary bucking up the courage to talk to you but . . .when your dad died, I could see a shift in you. You stopped playing outside with Primrose and took up cheerleading. And in that instant, I knew I'd lost you. With cheerleading comes a reputation. A reputation I'd never be able to build up for myself. I'm not sporty, I'm can't win the school anything. I was fat and the only thing going for me was that I was clever. But Capitol High doesn't want smarts. Not really . . ."

"You won us the Mathletes," I feebly remind him. "You and Finch did. You used to come second in wrestling to your brother in elementary all the time. You were the school's treasurer for Freshman and Sophomore year. Until Bonnie spread that rumour that you were spending the money . . ."

Where is this coming from? How long have I been keeping tabs on Peeta? I'm supposed to have hated him, yet I can conjure up at least one thing he has done every year since first grade. Right down to that dandelion he picked and left in my Jolly Phonics book . . .

Peeta smiles at me. "What was the truth again?" he asks me. "It was something to do with her and Twill, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," I sigh, my mind distracted by the sudden realization that I know more about him than I thought I did. "They were bribing your co-treasurer to give them hand-outs so they could pay their vodka mule."

"Vodka mule, that's right," says Peeta. He takes a shaky breath (something else I've noticed, his breathing is completely off) and I remove my hand at the feeling of his ribcage pushing against the thin layer of skin it sits beneath.

"People like you deserve more than me," I say.

"We are all capable of change," Peeta contradicts.

"When you're a famous scientist or the President or something amazing like that I'll still be where I am now," I mutter, looking at the ground. "You shouldn't have wasted so long caring about me when I don't deserve it." My hand finds his and I squeeze it tightly. "You need to give your compassion to someone who isn't a total bitch."

Peeta sits up and leans forward. I try to crane my head further away from him. Admitting this sort of thing to him is hard. I don't need to be thrown off by his gorgeous eyes. I can't turn any further though and he takes my chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing me to turn back and look at him reluctantly.

"Who you are today will not be who you are tomorrow. There is always time for change. It is never over until you say it is," he tells me firmly. "The worst thing you can do is let your past ruin your future."

"But my past is"-

"Is in the past."

I finally lift my eyes to look at him. How have I never noticed how handsome he actually is? Was my judgement clouded by a hatred even I didn't know the source of? Did the bright lights of popularity blind me from seeing Peeta for the beautiful person he really is. I find myself smiling. "You haven't signed my cast," I say.

Peeta raises his eyebrows. "Do you really want my name on there? Might cause suspicion if your stalker's name is written there," he points out.

I roll my eyes. "Hopefully that lie has died by now," I say. I snatch a black sharpie off my coffee table and hand it to him. "Go on." I grab my cast with both hands and heave it up between us. There's a perfect spot on my shin, clear of any drunken scrawl from Cashmere's party.

Peeta glances at me unsurely and nod him on. He takes the cap off and carefully writes his name on the spot. Where Gale's writing was just so boyish and scratchy, Peeta's is careful and smooth. I'm hypnotized by how he writes. Even with shaky hands, his name looks just so . . . so . . . perfect.

When he's finished, he looks at me again. I stare at him. He stares at me. Those deep azure pools that hold so many secrets, most of which I fear he is still hiding from me. This boy . . . who has cared for me since pre-K; gave me a dandelion when we were merely children; spent all of elementary bucking up the courage to talk to me only to have me trip up and fall into the bottomless pit of outright bitchiness . . . He deserves way more than me. I know he does. Yet, somehow I don't want him to have anyone else. I think of my previous plan to set him up with someone else. Now I can't bear the thought. I want him to be mine.

I imagine the shockwaves this will cause. Gale will think I'm still trying to make him jealous. Cato will be jealous. Glimmer will laugh and spread rumours. Clove will stand by me no matter what my decision is. Johanna will want Peeta happy, as will Finch and Annie. If I look after him, hopefully they will warm to me.

I want Peeta to be my Peeta.

I lean forward and press my lips against his with nothing to hold onto but the hope that he won't push me away . . .

However, I jump away just as fast as I had closed the distance. I cover my mouth with my hand, completely horrified by my actions. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me"-

"It's okay, Katniss," Peeta says, even though he's staring at me like I'm some wild animal and he's been caged in with me. He stands up and walks around the back of the couch. I don't know what to say. It's like our lips touching has sucked my voice out of my body. "Just don't do it again, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Peeta," I repeat. "I just . . . I don't know . . . I . . ."

"You were being sympathetic. I understand," Peeta tells me. He leans against the back of the sofa and closes his eyes, like he wants nothing more than to fall asleep right where he stands. "I won't tell anyone, either. I know what it would do to your reputation. You'll still get to go to the Homecoming Dance with Gale and live out your happy little fantasies." He looks at my door forlornly, like he wants to cross the distance and leave but he just doesn't have the energy to.

"I wasn't trying to mock you or anything," I insist. I want to stand up and face him but the struggle of heaving myself off with my crutches might distract from the problem at hand. I realize that he might think this, since he did tell me that he's liked me since pre-k and I haven't shown such affection to him . . . well . . . ever. I've been a bully. And in being a bully I would easily seize an opportunity to make fun of him. Except I didn't. When I kissed him, in that fleeting moment, I had wanted to.

"I know," says Peeta. "It's kind of nice, I suppose. Since my first kiss was with the girl who used to be the girl of my dreams."

For some reason, his use of past tense bothers me and I resist the urge to flinch. "That wasn't your first kiss," I deny.

"Well, that's weird, because I haven't been kissed by anyone else."

"What about that guy you said you dated in Middle School?"

"Thom? He wouldn't even hold my hand."

I feel sick. Oh my god, I took his first kiss form him. I can't believe it, I don't want to. Surely there's been someone else. Just because he's bullied and broken doesn't mean that somebody didn't see through all that before now. I "If I'd have known I wouldn't have . . . urgh! Why am I such a fuck up?!" I throw my face into the back cushion of the sofa and yell into it.

"You're not a fuck up," Peeta says tiredly. "You're going through a transition. It's difficult. Nobody is expected to go from bitch to angel in a millisecond."

I laugh dryly. "You saying I'm a bitch?" I lift my head and quirk an eyebrow in amusement.

"Not anymore," says Peeta, trying to sound helpful. "Except you're not exactly an angel either. Not yet, anyway."

I can't help laughing at this. How can Peeta manage to be so cool about everything? I literally just stole his first kiss from right under his nose without any feasible explanation as to why and yet he barely flutters an eyelash. The only time I've ever saw him lose his cool was when we had the discussion in the library about his disorder . . .

"You didn't answer my question earlier," I say. "Are you going to the Past to Present ceremony?"

The P2P ceremony is just another way for the school to boast about its achievements. They can bring forward things students have won from the 20's and still act like it's amazing. It's also another event I would have participated in if I hadn't broken my leg. The start of the school year is always filled with things for the cheerleaders to do and the fact that I'm missing out on it all, after all the work I put in, is beginning to bother me. There is nothing I can do, even if I wanted to. I'm just . . . helpless.

"I have to," Peeta answers. "Since I missed the day that was taken up with that godforsaken competition I have to go in for the P2P ceremony. Either that or my attendance is going to drop like a rotten cabbage."

"You might get a mention," I say. "You know, for the work you've been doing with me. Johanna, Finch and Annie could too."

"God, I hope not," Peeta replies. I tug on his wrist and he climbs over the back of my sofa, flopping back onto the space beside me. "I can see it playing out just like it did in Carrie."

"Someone's going to dump pig's blood on you?"

"They'll dump something."

I snicker and scoot closer to him. I find myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He radiates a warmth I can't ignore. I nestle in beside him and let my head fall against his chest. He wraps his arm around me, the embrace warm and welcome. With every breath he takes, his bones press against the side of my face. It worries me that my ear is right over where his heart should be and I can't hear a thing. I thought that since he's so thin, I would easily hear it pumping away but I can only faintly hear it if I strain. No wonder he's always so tired. His heart is as weak as his body.

"We should study outside of school more often," says Peeta. "You're more concentrated."

"I am?" I frown.

"Yeah. Probably because there isn't a risk of someone seeing you actually being civilised to me," Peeta explains. I know he's teasing me even though there's a ring of truth to his words.

"Well, I can't always study here," I say. "My sister brings her scout group back here every other day. They practice their knot tying or first aid or whatever gets them a badge, I don't know. Could we do a sort of every other day thing? Where we go to yours one day and mine the next? We could meet after school at the library as usual and walk together . . ." My last sentence trails off unsurely as the image of people seeing me with him comes into my head. I shake it out unhappily, having no desire for it to be there.

"I don't know if that would work," Peeta tells me.

"Why not?"

"My house . . . it . . . it's always busy." That's right. Peeta lives in an apartment above the bakery. He probably has to work shifts too.

"Would your family not mind, since it's for school?" I frown.

"It's not that," Peeta says quickly. "Things are always hectic. It wouldn't work. We wouldn't be able to focus properly." Before I can question him further, he quickly says, "How about when your sister and her scout group are at your house, I take you to where I always go to study? Since there's no peace at my house?"

I smile, even though his urgency for me not to go to his home is unsettling. "Sure."

There's still a long way before I solve the puzzle that is Peeta, it seems.


	8. It's in the System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss finds out some disturbing information about someone who was supposed to be her friend. When she confronts them about it, it explodes into a row. Except when the authorities are involved, it becomes clear that dealing with the situation fairly isn't the first thing on their principal's mind.

"Boys and girls, we have a new head of Pastoral Care," Principal Snow announces the next day during Wednesday Assembly.

I used to be able to hide my disinterest in everything being said well because I used to hide at the back of my class' line but now I have to sit at the front, on a chair, to give my leg rest. I have to crane my head around to even see Snow, let alone have a chance to pretend that I'm interested in anything he's saying.

"Mrs. Lyme will be taking over next week while Ms. Trinket focuses on Controlled Assessment work with the students," Snow continues to explain. "She will be dealing with old and new cases over the on coming months before Christmas."

Christmas? Halloween hasn't even passed yet! I roll my eyes and turn away, knowing that the teachers won't blame me for staring at the students instead of breaking my neck to try and look at Snow. My eyes lock on Gale's and he winks at me. I smile back. I'm conflicted about how I feel about him now. I want to be angry with him, to blame him for what has happened to Peeta, but in doing that I'd have to also acknowledge my own hand in what happened him. And there's still a desperate part of him that craves the popularity that will come from going to Homecoming with Gale.

"In other news, the Past to Present ceremony will be taking place this Friday! Regular classes will be cancelled for the annual remembrance of our achievements," Snow explains.

I feel an unenthusiastic 'yay' bubble up in my throat but I simply swallow it, knowing that such a bland-and clearly sarcastic-response would get me slung in detention. I instead kept my mouth shut for the rest of the assembly and filed out with everyone else. I can't help thinking about how we all seem like sheep. Going where we are told to and acting as we are told to. It's kind of jarring, really.

Clove catches up with me at our lockers. "God that man can drone on can't he? Head of pastoral care, past to present to future blah blah blah." She rolls her eyes and spins her locker combination in a huff.

"No, 'hello, Katniss, how was your day'?" I ask.

"I know, your leg's broken, you're being forced to learn math, your life sucks," Clove mutters.

"Okay tetchy," I say. "What's gotten you so riled up?"

Clove rolls her eyes and throws her locker door open before dramatically throwing her head inside it. "Would it be completely inappropriate to rip every strand of fucking golden hair out of Glimmer's ugly head?" she asks rhetorically.

I sigh. "What has she done now?"

Clove pulls out of her locker and yanks out her copy of "Blood Brothers" and her English Literature book. "She told Cashmere that I have a crush on Cato!" she mutters angrily.

"What?" I frown. "You haven't had a crush on Cato since . . ."

"Elementary!" Clove explodes. "And I only liked him then because he shared his blackcurrant juice box and brushed my hair for me with the hair brush for the dolls! But noooooo Glimmer has to go and fucking say that I'm still pining after him. I never fucking pined after him in the first place!"

"And Cashmere believed her?" I ask. Who the hell believes Glimmer? It's like a notorious rule that Glimmer talks through her butt hole. For God's sake, she pretended to be pregnant in Middle School and only gave up on it when nine months were up and she hadn't gone into labour.

"Cashmere would believe any shit for gossip," Clove grumbles. She slams her locker door shut, so hard it makes my books rattle.

"I'm sorry, Clove," I say.

"It's not your fault," Clove mutters. "I'm beginning to think that that blond bitch started the rumours about Cato, too. You know the ones about him having a crush on Peeta?"

I nod. I wouldn't be surprised if Glimmer had started those rumours. She is a gossip whore. The prospect of going to prom with Gale grows more appealing again, even if it is just because I want to smack Glimmer down a few pegs. Then something occurs to me.

"Does Glimmer have anything on me?" I ask.

Clove shrugs. "I don't know," she replies. "Did you tell her anything?"

"I don't know, we've been friends since first grade! I could have told her anything!" I exclaim.

"I'm sure she doesn't know anything too bad," says Clove.

I try to think of anything I told Glimmer over the years that I've known her but my mind is too panicked to think straight. I try to focus but can't because the idea of having told her something embarrassing from yester-year like Clove had done is making me panic really badly. I'm reaching out for my own English Literature book when I freeze in realization.

"Clove?"

"Yeah?"

"Who told everyone that I tried to kill myself?"

There's a pause as realization hits Clove as well. "Glimmer," she finally says.

I slam my locker shut, my books still inside. "I'm going to kill that little whore."

"You better leave most of it to me, Katniss," Clove says. I can barely hear her over the blood pumping in my ears. I'm so angry right now I can't think straight. All I know is that I want to get to Glimmer as quick as I possibly can to smack her so hard her extensions fly off. "I mean, the angry look fits you well but you're not really in fighting shape."

I know Clove's right and I don't mind stepping back a little to let her do most of the beating. Clove is strong and has been since we were kids. If anyone could give Glimmer what she deserves, it's Clove. I just really need to get to the bitch so I can unleash all my anger on her.

We find her outside, sitting at a table with the football players. She's snuggled against Gale but it's like he barely sees her for all the attention he gives her. Clove marches right up behind Glimmer and grabs her by the hair. Glimmer immediately screeches her head off, panicked before anything has even happened, and continues to do so as Clove yanks her off the bench by her extensions. Glimmer lands on the gravel and Clove lets go, giving her head a hard push as she does so.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Glimmer roars.

"Our problem? Our problem?!" Clove yells back. "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"My problem?!" Glimmer shouts back. "I don't have a damn problem! I didn't attack you from behind!"

"Didn't you? What about the knife you've put in our backs?!" I snap at her. "Why have you been spreading shit about us? What the hell do you gain from it?!"

The footballers have stopped their conversation and are now watching the argument pan out before them. It wouldn't be long before others hear us and we'll have half the school watching us. "You girls are pathetic!" Glimmer hisses. She staggers to her feet and glares at us. "You're just jealous that I've climbed the food chain and you two haven't! I expected it from you, Katniss. Breaking a leg is so attention seeking it's just pitiful! But you Clove? I didn't expect you to hang around with her and sink too!"

"I didn't choose to break my leg, Glimmer!" I exclaim.

"Says you," Glimmer says, rolling her eyes.

"Yes says me!" I reply. "I was the only one there when it happened!"

"Committing suicide is so last year, Katniss," Glimmer says. "Not to mention you've gotten so sad since it happened. How much time do you spend with the Loser's End chumps, now?"

Clove lurches forward and shoves Glimmer back to the ground. She falls against the table and rebounds back so she lands flat on her back. "How about I break your fucking leg and you can be pitiful too?" Clove hisses.

Glimmer scrambles to her feet, knowing full well that Clove is capable of it. "You don't get it, do you? I'm a footballer's girlfriend now, I could get him to break all your legs!"

Gale snickers. It's so minute that only I see it. It's clear he won't be doing any leg breaking, especially at Glimmer's command.

"Get it? We can do nothing but get it!" Clove exclaims. "All you've done since you became a 'footballer's girlfriend' is wear the goddamn letterman jacket! You know it's not that special, someone from Loser's End was even given one!"

I look at Clove in alarm. I didn't tell her who had given Peeta the jacket. I didn't tell anyone in fact. There's still an underlying sense of worry that Peeta will somehow get in trouble if such a conversation arises. My eyes flick to Cato, who doesn't seem bothered. It wouldn't help his rep, but then his rep might just be solid enough to take a hit like that.

Glimmer's face drops like a stone. "What?" she scowls. "Who?"

"Fat"-Clove glances at me and coughs-"I mean Mellark." She has caught on that I don't like Peeta being called Fatboy anymore. I didn't think she would take to it without question but she has.

"WHAT?!" Glimmer explodes. "Someone gave Fatboy a jacket? And you took it seriously? Obviously it's a joke! Right?" She turns to the table again and everyone looks confused.

Gale looks at me, his eyes suddenly lit up with realization. My heart drops. Shit. He's caught on to why I was standing beside Peeta and his friends with a lettermen jacket in my hand. "Was it you, man?" Gale asks Cato.

Cato shrugs. "Eh. I'm failing Chem. Wanted to see if I could soften the freak up and get some answers out of him," he says.

"And he said no?" Gale frowns.

"What did you expect?" Clove butts in. "The whole point of the Loser's End kids is that they're smart. He probably saw right through you, Cato. Besides, since when have you ever showed interest in him before?"

"Cashmere's party," Glimmer declares.

"Which was a ploy to make him think I cared," Cato says slowly. How casual he is about his deception makes me sick. "The fact that someone started a rumour that I actually did like him was a risk I was willing to take. I can't stand the sight of him, really. All I can see is that fat blob he used to be and it makes me shudder."

Glimmer snorts and the other guys snicker.

"He's not fat," I say to them.

"Yeah, right, whatever Katniss," Gale replies.

"He's not."

"What? Have you gone soft on him or something?" Glimmer sneers. She laughs. "That's rich! Katniss Everdeen has fallen for Fatboy Mellark!"

"Shut up, Glimmer," Clove snaps.

"You know what I can't believe?" Glimmer declares.

"Life, the universe and everything?" Clove deadpans.

Glimmer scowls but doesn't take the bait. She spins to the table of footballers and says, "I can't believe that Fatboy had the gall to turn Cato down! Who does he think he is?" I immediately recognize what she's doing. She trying to diffuse the situation and redirect it away from her and onto something else.

"You have a point," says Gale.

"No, she doesn't," I say. "It's Glimmer! She never has a point!"

"This time, I do!" Glimmer says. "Fatboy Mellark is getting ahead of himself, I think!"

"Sit the fuck down Glimmer and shut your fucking piehole!" I scream at her. I'm trembling, I'm so angry. I can't take the idea of her rallying up the entire football team against Peeta. With everything he's going through right now, he doesn't need another beating added on top. His nose has just healed for God's sake! "You're just trying to move us away from the fact that you're the one who started the rumours about Cato and Peeta in the first place!"

"Am not!" Glimmer squeals.

"Yes, you are! Who else would it bloody be?" I raise my eyebrows at Cato. "Did you really think it was anyone else? Glimmer is the goddamn gossip queen and she's so full of shit it's unbelievable!" I glare at her. "You've been telling everyone that I tried to kill myself even though you weren't even fucking there when I fell which is, by the way, what happened. I F.E.L.L!"

"Chill Katniss, it's not that big a deal," says Gale, tugging Glimmer back onto the bench beside him and pulling her close. The dickhead really thinks this is a time for trying to make me jealous?! "It's not like anyone really thinks you tried to top yourself. It'd have been pretty selfish of you, especially with Homecoming just around the corner."

"You're so full of shit, Gale, I know you all believed it. You treated me like an emo when I came back to school. You could have just did what Clove did and-I don't know-asked me about it?!" Clove places her hand on my shoulder as I take a step forward, knowing that I don't stand a chance against them with my injury.

"Okay, we believed it, so what?" Gale challenges. "What do you expect of us? You're on meds, Katniss. You go to a counsellor. I think it's all getting too much for you. Maybe you should just sit out for the rest of the year . . ."

"Who do you think you are?" Clove intercepts. "How the hell do you know about her medication? You're not her doctor!"

"We've all seen her popping the pills at her locker," Cato explains in Gale's defence.

"Alright, I'm on mood stabilizers, so what?" I lie.

"They aren't working," Glimmer sings.

I lunge towards her but Clove drags me back. In the fray my satchel opens and my books slip out, along with my pill bottle which bounces against the ground and spills everywhere. Glimmer scrambles forward and before I can stop her, she's snatched the bottle up. "Antidepressants!" she declares. "I fucking knew it!"

Clove grabs the bottle from Glimmer and, to my surprise but immense pleasure, punches the bitch square in the face. Glimmer falls into Gale and screams, blood immediately gushing from her nose. "Oh my god, I think she's broken my nose!" she screams. Clove calmly picks my books up and gathers what pills she can back into my bottle.

"Now you know how Mellark feels," Clove mutters to herself. She hooks her arm through mine and we walk away.

I'm giddy now about what we've done to Glimmer but I know it will backfire dreadfully.

~xXx~

"The new head of pastoral care will be having a talk with the seniors about mental health later this afternoon," Ms. Trinket explains during form class the next day. Mental health? Why would she want to talk to us about mental health? I get enough of that from Dr. Aurelius every week! "Mandatory attendance. You'll only be missing careers class and study anyway so there is no excuse for missing it."

Well fantastic. Not only do I have to meet Dr Aurelius this afternoon but I also have to listen to the new head of pastoral ramble on about mental health! Is this because of the suicide rumours? I lean forward and try to catch Ms. Trinket's eye but she turns her back to the class to fill out some papers. I glance at Clove and she quirks an eyebrow, clearly having the same thought process as me.

"Oh, that's right," Ms. Trinket suddenly says. "Katniss, you're expected at Mr Snow's office after form class. Something about a fight with Glimmer?" A couple of snickers come from the back of the class and I clench my fists to resist the urge to spin around and flip them off. "Weird. I could have sworn you girls were friends."

"Times change, Ms. Trinket," Clove explains. She lifts her butt off her seat and tries to look at the sheet Ms. Trinket read the message off. "Anything on there about me?"

"No. For once you're in the clear Miss Jettison," Ms. Trinket smiles.

I scowl as Clove sits back down. Glimmer must have only complained about me, the little witch! I should have expected it, really, but I had honest to God thought that Glimmer had an equally displaced hatred towards myself and Clove. Glimmer, Clove and I were all friends at one point. Unless Glimmer had always hated me and just . . . didn't express it during our 'friendship'. Surely all the calling signs would have been there if she had? Glimmer is a spiteful bitch, surely if she did hate me, I'd have noticed during our friendship? Surely!

"Clove, answer me honestly," I whisper once Ms. Trinket has went off to do her own thing for the remainder of the period. Clove leans forward so her ear is closer to me and I repeat, "Answer me honestly. Does Glimmer hate me?"

Clove pulled a face and made an, "Ehhhhhh," noise before saying, "Probably maybe not so, uh, yeah. She did. I mean does. Like she never really liked you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I exclaim.

"I was sworn to secrecy," Clove shrugs. "I'm sorry. If you had made me promise to do the same thing-which you have done-aren't you comforted by the fact that I do do what you tell me to do? Especially secrets wise."

Clove has a point. However, I can't help but feel annoyed by the fact that I never knew that Glimmer hated me. I thought I was susceptible to such things. I knew when Johanna started hating me. Bonnie made it completely obvious when she started hating me by throwing dirty looks in my direction and swinging Twill around so their backs are turned to me whenever I pass. I even knew when Madge started growing a dislike towards me, mainly because of my crush on Gale.

Madge's parents are from Spain originally and moved back when Freshman year began. Madge gets looked after by her Nanny who has practically raised her since she was a toddler anyway. The only time Madge goes back to Spain is when there is something up with her parents that makes it absolutely necessary for her to go back to Spain, which seems to have happened now. Every time she has gone away to Spain, I've jumped on the opportunity to drop hints with Gale. I've never had the chance to think about how guilty I should feel for doing that until now . . . I wonder if her parents are ok. She's been gone for weeks now.

Glimmer, however, mustn't be as conspicuous as I thought. Then again, maybe she can be sneaky when she wants to be. If she's been spreading lies about myself and Clove after we went separate ways, what's to have stopped her from doing so before then? Who knows how many rumours that have involved us came from her mouth. And, when I think about it, she has done her fair share of bitching about Clove as well. Although she must have bitched about me even more and said worse things because she's never sworn me to secrecy.

The bell rings and I yank myself up from my desk. Glimmer isn't even in the classroom. I bet she's whinging in Principal Snow's office already.

"Katniss, Glimmer even bitched about you when you came back to school," Clove says as we leave.

"About my 'suicide'?" I mutter despondently.

"I also couldn't tell you because for the first few days I wasn't entirely sure that you were . . ." Clove adjusts the strap of her backpack and bites her lip. "I wasn't sure if you were stable or not."

"You actually thought I'd tried to kill myself?" I frown.

"I didn't know, Katniss. I didn't know what to think, okay?" Clove says tiredly. "What would you have thought? If it had been me? Would you have believed what Glimmer said?"

What would I have thought? I, just like Clove, would have thought that Glimmer was a genuine friend at that point so . . . I guess I probably would have believed her. "I don't know," I say. "I don't blame you, I guess. You know now though. I didn't. I really need you to believe me on that, Clove."

"I do," Clove says. "Just be careful, okay? You know how manipulative Glimmer can be. Especially towards people who don't know her so well. Watch your back."

"Always do," I remind her.

We part ways at the link corridor so Clove goes to the left and I keep going straight ahead, in the direction of Principal Snow's office. When I arrive, Glimmer is sitting in the waiting room, sniffling like an annoying baby animal and wiping crocodile tears away from her eyes. If there wasn't Snow's reception lady tapping away on her computer, I know for a fact that Glimmer wouldn't even put in the effort to pretend to cry. The only thing that comforts me is that there's a bandage on her nose. Clove must really have broken it.

"Snow says to go on in," Glimmer whimpers. Oh my God, she's making me sick. I genuinely feel like I'm going to be sick because of this stupid act of hers.

Snow's receptionist pulls a face as well, clearly able to see through her as well and says, "I'm perfectly capable of delivering Master Snow's messages, thank you very much Ms. Sparkles. Katniss, go on in."

"Thank you." Not even giving Glimmer another glance, I go into Snow's office, hoping to God that he was able to see through Glimmer's act too.

Yeah, he wasn't.

I can immediately tell by the way that he looks at me that he is 100% on Glimmer's side. His snakelike eyes hold great distaste towards me and I feel like I'm walking into a death sentence as soon as I sit on the ugly yellow leather seat in front of his desk. Snow's office always stinks of blood and every time I enter his office the smell turns me. It's no secret that Snow has a medical condition that makes his breath smell this way and he takes medication to sate it. I feel bad for him, even if he is an asshole at best, that he has to deal with having blood breath all the time.

"Care to explain to me what happened, Miss Everdeen?" he asks me slowly.

I prop my crutches against his desk to prolong the period before I actually have to answer him. I lean back in my seat and shrug, "Glimmer and I had a spat." I leave Clove out of it, which is an unspoken rule. If someone manages to avoid being involved, then leave them out. Besides, if Snow finds out that Clove broke Glimmer's nose she could get expelled.

"About what?"

"Glimmer has been spreading rumours about myself and my friends," I tell him.

"What sort of rumours?" Snow prompts.

I sigh, trying not to let my agitation get the better of me. "She told everyone that I tried to kill myself when I broke my leg," I explain. "Now the whole school thinks I tried to top myself which is ridiculous because I have no reason to kill myself! Is it really so hard to believe that I slipped?"

Snow doesn't show any emotion on his wrinkled face. I wonder if he's even listening to me beneath that placid mask of his. "I don't mean to sound like I'm prying, Katniss, but your Doctor has explained your situation to the school. We know all about what really happened in your bathroom."

I roll my eyes. Of course Doctor Aurelius called the school. "Even if I had tried to commit suicide-which I didn't!-that doesn't give Glimmer the right to go around telling people when it's none of her business. In fact, if I had that would make it even worse!"

"Your story is completely different to Glimmer's," Snow informs me.

"And who are you going to believe?" I challenge.

Snow and I hold eye contact for a good minute. I know what his answer will be before he says it but I'm still determined to make him break first. Which he does. "Your current state of health makes me inclined to believe Glimmer," he tells me. "However, that doesn't explain her injuries. There's no way you could have inflicted such violence upon her, even if she does claim that you jumped her for no reason what-so-ever. Was there anyone else involved?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

It's clear Snow doesn't believe me but he isn't going to get anything else out of me. No way. "Have you even asked anyone else about what happened, sir?" I ask him. "The entire football team saw the fight, they'd tell you that Glimmer is lying to you."

"I'm not going to involve the football team, Katniss."

Urgh! Snow and his stupid football team! I bet he's too worried about letting them train and getting enough hours in before the next big game. I swallow the urge to scream at Snow and clench my hands into fists by my sides. I used to think this man was the best principal in the world. He always defended me when I did wrong!

When I did wrong . . .

"Is that all, sir?" I ask.

"You'll be serving a lunch time detention today, Katniss. You'll do more of your study rubbish with Mellark." Snow waves me off. I can't help smiling as I heave myself back up on my crutches and hop back to class. That really isn't a punishment at all.

I'm beginning to see the corruption, however, more and more.


	9. Courage in Small Doses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss bonds with Peeta in the library and comes to learn a thing or two about bravery.

I run my finger along the spines of the books that sit tightly against one another in the school library. It's strange how I haven't noticed how many actual, well, books there are in our school library. I always knew there were books here, obviously. I just never noticed that there was so many classic novels. I thought it was just a bunch of cheap books that Snow purchased in a possible back alley just to fill the shelves and make us look educated.

Pride and Prejudice; The Great Gatsby; Sense and Sensibility. I think I remember trying to read something similar to these and I couldn't get through it because the writing was too incomprehensible. For my primitive brain anyway. I wonder if Peeta knows what some of this means? Maybe if we ever have some spare time he could give me a hand understanding it.

I pull Pride and Prejudice off the book shelf and wedge it under my arm. I hop to the table Peeta and I study at and wait for him to show up. I wonder if Snow realizes that he hasn't really punished me. It's no secret that he's well aware of the food chain idea that the people at the top created. I don't understand the teachers' desperation to be 'in' with the popular kids but they give them more attention to the middle and the lower dwellers. That's why he thought making me-someone who has spent most of her life at the top-spend my lunch with Peeta-someone who has been said to be at the bottom ever since he started school-was a horrible enough punishment for fighting with Clove. It benefitted me greatly but looking at that system in a subjective point of view, it is completely extortionate. It really hurts me to think that this is a system I have spent my life believing was good and fair.

"Sorry I'm late, Katniss." Peeta swerves around the tables in his way and falls into the seat across from me. His hands disappear into his bag to pull his books out and I capture a splash of blue disappearing into the satchel.

"Is everything alright?" I ask. He's been late to our school sessions more than usual. It's made me worried that me now knowing that he's anorexic is putting him off coming to see me.

"Yeah, I just had to go to the hospital," Peeta says.

My heart lifts. "What for?"

Peeta lifts his hand out of satchel and my heart sinks. "Oh my god, what happened?"

His fore and middle fingers are wrapped together in blue bandage and there's a splint inside the wrapping. "Gale broke it. He said I don't have the right to turn Cato down. He said since all the girls obviously aren't into me I should be grateful that anyone likes me."

I throw my face into my hands. "Oh my God I'm so sorry," I say. "That was my fault. Glimmer has been spreading lies about me and Clove and when we confronted her a lot of things got blurted out. It wasn't me, I promise. Clove knew you had been given a jacket and said it on a whim. If she'd known that Gale was going to . . . to . . ." I've taken his hand into my own and am anxiously stroking the blue bandage. "Be Gale she wouldn't have . . ."

"Hey, Katniss, it's fine," says Peeta. "Katniss, look at me." I'm staring at his fingers, unable to tear my eyes away from the horrifying truth of what has been done to him. A warm hand suddenly touches my face and I inhale sharply at the way my heart stops completely at the sudden touch. Peeta makes me look at him. Not forcefully. He'd never use force. He simply guides my face up so my eyes meet his. "Listen to me, Katniss. None of this is your fault, okay? None of it. I can look after myself. I've handled Gale long before Cato handed me the lettermen jacket and I will probably be handling him long after Cato has moved on to another student he wants to manipulate."

"That doesn't mean breaking your finger is right," I contradict. My hand is still on top of his injured one. I can't believe Gale did that. Well, I can believe it, really. I just don't want to believe it.

"It's technically my fault," says Peeta. "Gale gave me a choice: Go out with Cato and give him what he wants or have my finger broken. I just wasn't prepared to give into to something like that. Who I go out with is my choice, you know? That and I didn't believe Gale would actually break my finger."

"It's not your fault," I say firmly. "The fact that they even have you convinced that it is your fault is sick, you shouldn't think that. Gale is the one at fault. So is Cato and the rest of the damn football team!"

Peeta shakes his head and smiles. "Never thought I'd hear Katniss Everdeen say that," he says.

"Shut up," I chuckle.

Peeta looks at the book I picked off the shelf and removes his hand from my face to pick it up. I'm shocked by how cold my face feels without his hand there. "Pride and Prejudice?" he says. "Doesn't seem like your taste. I thought you'd like . . . I don't know . . . something like Twilight?"

I snort in amusement. "I did at one point. More for the movies than the books, if I'm honest. I think Prim read them but she refused to see the movies for some reason. I think she does that for all book-to-movie adaptation. I just wanted to see Robert Pattinson's abs. I think Glimmer is still hooked on it even though it ended . . . ages ago, right?"

Peeta's eyes are skimming the blurb of Pride and Prejudice, a small smile on his face. I feel a tug in my chest. A need to be closer. Even if it's just sitting on the seat beside him instead of across from him. This magnetic pull he seems to have is inhuman and I don't understand how everyone else can't feel it too. Maybe they do, but in a different way. Where I want to be close to Peeta in an almost intimate way that makes me shiver to think of, Gale and the rest of the football team draw towards Peeta because they're . . . threatened by him. Yes. That's it. They're threatened by him. They're threatened by the fact that Peeta doesn't care about the food chain or his own position in it. And because of this lack of caring, he doesn't see a need to grovel at the feet of the higher positioned students, nor does he feel compelled to worship the ground they walk on.

Now that I think about it, Peeta turned down Cato. Cato. As in Cato, the inside linebacker for the football team. The geeks and the nerds are made out to be cowardly weaklings who can't defend themselves in a fight but they're not. Anyone else, if they had been asked out by a footballer, they'd have jumped on the opportunity like hyenas on meat. Peeta said no. That wasn't just brave, that was bloody undauntable. Cowards my ass.

"I was . . . I was wondering if you'd help me read it," I say. "Not that I can't read, that's ridiculous, what I mean is that it was written years and years ago and I don't think I'd be able to get through it on my own. If . . . that makes sense?"

Peeta smiles at me. "Of course I'll help you," he says.

My heart does something I've never felt it do before. It soars in my chest like a shooting star. He puts the book down and we do maths for the rest of lunch time. We work right up until the five minute warning bell. "Are you going to the talk Mrs Lyme is holding this afternoon?" I ask.

"Mandatory attendance doesn't really give much room to do otherwise," Peeta shrugs.

"Wait, is there a reason you wouldn't want to go?" I frown, following him out of the library. He holds the door open for me and I stop short. No one has held the door open for me. No guy anyway. Prim used to talk about how a boy who had a crush on her always held the door open for her in Elementary and our mum explained that it's a sign of curtesy and respect. Even as Gale claims to want to go out with me for Homecoming (simultaneously keeping up the stupid act with Glimmer) he has never shown me any respect. I think of how he spoke to me on the day of the Colour Run.

"Yes. And that night we will fuck like animals and you will cum so many times you will forget where or who you are."

That's not respectful. He sees me as a sex object, nothing else. I think about something that has never occurred to me before: life beyond homecoming. After homecoming, I probably would have started planning for Prom, but what does that mean? Was I always just going to live a little bit ahead of myself, always planning for the future instead of living in the now? What exactly did I plan to do at the end of the year, after I left High School? My life has revolved getting Gale to ask me out for so long that I don't even know what my plans for afterwards are.

"No," Peeta tells me. "Just pointing out a fact."

Well, he's right about that. Mandatory means mandatory. It's a fact. Mrs Lyme probably choose today specifically because she knew the Seniors wouldn't be missing any important classes this afternoon if they attended her mental health talk. I'm still confused as to why she choice that to be her first talk topic. Mental health. I still think it's because of my suicide rumours and the ripples it has caused. Does Mrs Lyme, as Head of Pastoral Care, know about that?

"I'll go the long way around, so no one sees you with me," Peeta says once we're outside the library.

"You don't need to do that," I tell him.

"It's fine, really," Peeta smiles. "See you."

"Yeah, see you," I reply.

We part ways and the further away we get, the more that magnetic pull makes me want to turn around and follow him. To swallow my pride and go with Peeta, not giving a damn who sees us. However, I am too weak minded to. I can't bring myself to react to his pull the way a magnetic piece of wire would. I'm not ready to.

Mrs Lyme's talk was only lightly based on mental health. Really, all she did was introduce herself to us and tell us about what she aimed to achieve for our school. She spoke about mental end more closely to the end, when she was talking about reasons for coming to speak to her. I suddenly grew uncomfortable with the talk as soon as it reached this point.

"If you, or anyone you know, is suffering in any shape or form, I urge you to do the right thing and come tell me. My door is always open and no problem is too big or too small for me," she tells us all. Clove glances at me out of the corner of her eye, her entire body inclined to face directly forward to see that she's listening. Why is she looking at me? What is going through her head?

"Master Snow has invited me to the Past to Present Ceremony tomorrow and has told me to pick one aspect of the school that I-as a new cog in your school's well-oiled machine-find impressive for him to honour." Mrs Lyme smiles knowingly. "And I think I already know what I'm going to choose."

I feel a wrench in my gut. I hope to God it's not the football team or the cheerleading squad. They really don't need the hype. Going by how this school works, I'd say she probably has chosen them.

After school, Mum drives me to Doctor Aurelius' Office, located in the Capitol. To get from here to there it takes an hour and a half (with an extra half hour added on for a detour to collect Prim from school) so I sit in the backseat of the car and let myself sleep for a bit. I know Prim won't mind, since she hasn't gotten to sit in the front of the car since I broke my leg.

For a while, I don't dream. I can remember a lot of blackness before something discernible comes to mind. Usually, I'd struggle with being able to decipher what's real and what's not whilst dreaming but it's very easy in this case because of the very simple fact that my leg isn't broken. In fact, I'm using it perfectly, like it was never broken at all. Well, I'm only able to notice this later, when I wake up. While I'm dreaming is a completely different ball game. I'm not aware of anything. If I was I would manipulate things to fit my own fantasies. But I'm not and I don't.

The dream is weird. I'm kissing someone. Pretty fiercely too. So forceful it's all lips and tongue and teeth. I'm controlling it, I can feel my palms pressed against a wall, caging the other half of this operation against me. It's clear I must have initiated it. How else would have I gained such control? I'm pressed against the full extension of this person's body. They're strong, able to balance me against them with next to no trouble, and I can feel their hands lightly touching my hips. It feels nice. Warm and comforting. So much so that I keep going, paying no heed to reason or circumstance. All I know is that I want more. I need more. More of this comfort and this warmth. I don't need to be aroused or keening for sex to enjoy a kiss I can just take the moment and enjoy it to the very best that I can.

Then it goes wrong.

I want to touch the person who makes me feel so content and at ease so I remove my hands from the wall and place them on the person's shoulders. As soon as my hands make contact with their body, they turn to dust between my fingers. My eyes open in alarm to look upon the face of my disintegrating partner, just in time to watch two blue eyes fade into blackness.

I know what the dream means.

I'm going to ruin Peeta because everything I touch turns to dust.


	10. A Little Piece of Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss confides in Doctor Aurelius for advice about Peeta's condition. She also has an interesting conversation with Primrose and her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to update this story every day because I have many chapters written right now and I keep forgetting to update with them :)

"Can a school be corrupt?"

Doctor Aurelius looks at me in surprise, shocked that I'm even speaking to him with a logical conversation to boot. "Any school in particular?" he asks, crossing one knee over the other and placing his notepad on top. I shake my head, making it clear that I wasn't going to say, even if there was. "Depends on who's in charge of the school. Some people aren't very good at hiding their deception. Others . . . well . . . others disguise it very well." He tilts his head in curiosity. "Why?"

I prop my leg up on top of the coffee table and fold my arms securely across my stomach. "Say there was a school," I say. "And the kids have arranged themselves into a pecking order where only the athletic and the beautiful are at the top. These people-even though they aren't very bright-rule over every other student in the order. They control things . . . make people feel like dirt. Hurt them, punish them for things beyond their control . . .

"The other students in the order aren't bad people, either. In fact, they're very smart. They deserve praise for their abilities but don't get any because of this stupid pecking order system. The system that deems they deserve to be treated like scum because of their smarts or their appearance or trivial things like their weight. What does it mean if the teachers support that? If the principal doesn't do anything about it?"

"Children are like wild animals, Katniss," Doctor Aurelius explains. "They behave like the school is a jungle and thus they have to assert their dominance to stay on top. If they don't, they believe they'll fall down and die."

"But what about the people who don't have a choice? The good people? The strongest people aren't always the best people to be on top so how do they get there and why don't the adults in charge do anything about it?" I insist.

"Adults can't see things the same way adolescents your age do. What you think is important will seem trivial to them. However, some try to stay in touch with the younger generation by siding with them when they maybe shouldn't. Maybe to get them on their side or encourage them to do what they want them to do."

I think of all the times Snow had my back before I broke my leg. I was the Head Cheerleader, he needed me on side to keep his silly football team motivated. When I broke my leg, things reversed. Suddenly he didn't need me on his side anymore, he needed Glimmer. For the time being until I'm healed, that is. What Snow wants is for the school to win the Homecoming Game and every other Game after that. Anything else, in his eyes, is unimportant.

"Have you been thinking about corruption within a school environment a lot recently?" Aurelius asks curiously.

"Yes," I confirm.

"Why do you think that is?"

I mull it over. I know why it is but I'm still not 100% sure I want to share this with him. He's my therapist, I know that, but the reasoning as to why I need a therapist in the first place is wrong. Aurelius is here because I supposedly tried to kill myself. But I didn't. I could still get help from him, though, if I just asked . . .

"I'm a bitch," I say flatly.

Aurelius raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yes. I'm a colossal bitch. Before I broke my leg I'd have spat on a homeless person if they'd gotten in my way," I deadpan. "I was one of those assholes at the top of the chain who treated the rest like shit-sorry, I didn't mean to swear-and I continued to be like that beyond my accident. I still think I am a bitch. Peeta says I'm not, he says I'm changing or whatever, but he's too nice to say otherwise"-

"Who's Peeta?" Aurelius asks.

I frown. "Why?"

"Because it's the first name you've ever mentioned during our sessions," he replies.

I chew on my lip. "He's a friend. He tutors me math."

"How long have you been friends with him?" Aurelius probes.

"Not long," I admit. "He's too good for me, really. He's innocent in a sort of way. I feel like I'm going to get him in trouble." I stare at the floor shamefully. "I already have." Aurelius' gaze is gentle and I hate how much it comforts me. "He gets beat up a lot. Because he's clever. Before we were friends, I used to make fun of him horribly. Now it's backfired on me and I don't know what to do." I run my fingers through my hair in frustration and resist the urge to scream.

"How has it backfired?"

"This is private, right?"

"I can't repeat anything you say to anyone but you," Aurelius assures me.

"He's sick!" I blurt out, despite myself. "He's sick and I don't know what to do!"

Aurelius doesn't even flinch at my outburst. Has he a prepared reaction for every possible outcome? "How is he sick, Katniss?" he asks gently.

I already feel guilt swelling up inside me. I've betrayed Peeta by telling Aurelius, even if Aurelius can't go off and tell anyone else. "Peeta used to have a weight problem in Middle School," I explain, practically talking into my chest. "Even though he lost a ton of weight and toned up one summer, the nickname 'fatboy' hung over his head like a death sentence. I used to be one of the people who called him that. I didn't think he'd . . . If I'd known I wouldn't have . . ." I shake my head shamefully, knowing there's no excuse for how I treated Peeta. "He's anorexic now and is nearly a skeleton. I tried to tell him to get help but he doesn't think I understand!" I look at Aurelius desperately. "If he keeps going at the rate he's going at, he's going to die Aurelius." Those words make my stomach lurch and I instantly feel sick from uttering them.

Aurelius' compassionate gaze doesn't waver. He doesn't show disgust or worry, only kindness. "Katniss, the thing about anorexia is that it's a mental illness. Like depression or schizophrenia. It's all in the mind. Most people with anorexia are also body dysmorphic. This means that they have a distorted image of themselves. They look in the mirror and see something completely different to what we see."

I think of how Peeta had written 'handlebars' on his hips and probably has other 'motivators' marked onto his skin as well, even though he's only skin and bone now. Maybe if he had saw the weight he'd lost that summer before junior year, he wouldn't have saw a reason to starve himself. "I think he might have that," I tell Aurelius. "Can it be cured?"

Aurelius shakes his head. "It would take therapy and your friend would have to come willingly," he tells me.

I sigh in frustration. That's not going to happen! "But that's just it! He won't do anything about it! He still thinks he's fat!" I exclaim.

"You can encourage him, Katniss. You'd be surprised the effect a friend can have on an individual," Aurelius says.

"I don't have that big an influence," I mutter.

Aurelius cocks his head. "Why do you think that?" he asks me.

"Because it's true."

"Do you have low self-esteem?"

"No."

"Low opinion of yourself?"

"I suppose."

"How do other people see you?"

I shrug. "Most probably think I'm a crazy bitch who tried to kill herself," I answer. "Clove is still my friend, I guess. Peeta tried to say that he's always liked me but I think he might have just been trying to be nice . . ."

"What makes you say that?"

"I never spoke to him until this year! If you don't include being a complete arsehole, that is." I wince. "Sorry. I promise that's the last swearword." Aurelius hasn't said that I'm not allowed to swear but I feel wrong swearing in his presence. He seems like such a formal, put together guy. I don't want to dirty his pristine ears with my bog mouth. It might put him off trying to help me. And I need him to try to help me help Peeta help himself.

"You care about Peeta, don't you?" Aurelius asks. "In a deeper way than 'just friends'?"

I scoff, despite the fact that I know that he might just be right. "No," I lie unconvincingly. "We're completely platonically friends." Even though Aurelius looks unconvinced, I plough on. "And friends look out for each other. I don't want him to die. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, even when I was a bad person."

Aurelius thankfully looks like he understands me. "Sadly, Katniss, anorexia is complex. You can't tell someone with it to get help because in their eyes they're already helping themselves." His eyebrows draw together. "Isn't your mother a doctor? Couldn't you discuss it with her?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I promised Peeta I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Sometimes breaking promises are necessary. Especially if it's in a person's best interests," Aurelius says. When I stare at him, completely unconvinced, he says, "Okay, think of it this way: imagine Peeta told you he'd been attacked, let's say brutally beaten or raped, but told you to keep it secret and you promised you would. Would you actually keep it secret or would you inform the authorities?"

"I'd inform the authorities," I frown. "But that's not the same. Peeta wasn't attacked. He's just . . . just . . . I don't know what he is or was or what he plans to do! All I know is that if he goes the rate he's going, he won't make it to the end of the year!" I eye Aurelius wearily. "Shouldn't you want to be talking about me or something anyway?"

Aurelius shakes his head. "On the contrary. The fact that you're expressing care and concern about someone who you wouldn't have looked at before your accident is rather fascinating."

Is it? I wouldn't have thought it would be. I suppose since this is the first half way decent conversation we've ever had, since in our previous meetings all I've done is deny that I tried to kill myself. I'm sure Aurelius has gotten sick of hearing me saying, "I didn't try to commit suicide," and he has indulged in whatever conversation I offer that doesn't include those six words in it.

"Okay then," I say, folding my arms in defiance. "Tell me how to help him."

"Other than providing moral support wherever you can?" Aurelius asks. His eyes gleam with a sadness that takes me by surprise. "You can't."

~xXx~

"So what did you talk about?" Mother asks during the car ride home.

I shrug. "Nothing special."

"Aurelius told me that you've made progress," Mum continues. "That you actually had a civilised conversation. However, he couldn't divulge the information about what the conversation was about."

I shrug again. I definitely can't tell my mother about Peeta's condition. She'd become curious, probe for more information, try to get me to ask him questions to later relay the answers to her so she could build a plan of action. That's one of the things that I suppose is admirable about my mum. That sort of thinking must have skipped a kid because Prim is now exactly the same but I'm not. She's hard working with her dedication to her scout group, her dance classes, and her part time jobs. I'm just sort of floating. After spending so long thinking cheerleading was all that mattered, I'm really stuck for something to do after High School. I haven't even really properly thought about what I want to be. On a serious level, not a fanciful, "Oh, I'm going to be a star!" way.

I look at Prim in the rear view mirror. She's reading a book of some sort in the backseat. Isn't that sort of thing supposed to make you sick? In a way, I'm glad Prim hasn't turned out like I have. When dad died, she didn't throw herself into seclusion and force herself to do something she wasn't even sure she enjoyed yet. She did what dad would have wanted: worked at the things she loved and never let anyone scare her into conforming.

I look at myself in the rear view mirror. My grey eyes dull and judging. I've conformed. I can see that now. All my life I've worried about what other people think. I still do. I can't shake it. I wonder if dad would be ashamed of me or if he would cut me slack. It's been so long, I don't know how he would react to me.

"Yeah, we talked," I admit. "And yeah, I don't want to 'divulge' anything either."

"You don't have to," Mum assures. She removes a hand from the steering wheel to place on my knee. "As long as you're okay and are making progress."

"I guess . . ."

"Katniss," Prim suddenly pipes up from the back.

"Yeah?" I reply, returning my gaze to the rear view mirror.

Prim hasn't looked up from her book. Wait, is she talking and reading at the same time? Oh, no. She's writing. How can she write while the car's moving?! "Who's that boy you were studying with last week?"

My eyes widen and my heart drops into my stomach so fast it knocks the wind out of my lungs. "I . . . what?"

"You were studying with a boy. I saw you on my way to the bathroom."

"You were on your own with a boy?!" Mum exclaims.

I look at her incredulously. "Chill, mum, it's fine," I say. "He's just a friend."

"Well, he's unnaturally underweight. He should see a doctor," Prim states matter-of-factly. My head feels hollow and I have to lean against the car seat for support. How did Prim pick up on something like that? I knew she was perceptive but damn, I didn't think that perceptive! My mum glances at me out of the corner of her eye and squints, obviously recognizing that something's up.

"He's not underweight Prim!" I snap. Prim glances up from her book and quirks an eyebrow at me. I quirk one back. Mum is unaware of this quirking competition because she has to force herself to keep her eyes on the road. "You can't just go around making assumptions like that!"

"I'm not making assumptions," Prim replies calmly. She's using her doctor-to-patient voice on me! "I'm stating a fact." Her blue eyes widen as realization dawns on her. "I know who it is!"

"No you don't!" I deny before she's even said anything.

"Yes, I do!" Prim leans forward, books nearly tumbling out of her lap, and taps our mum's shoulder. "Remember Wyvern Mellark? He baked us bread when dad died?"

Mum nods slowly. "Yes," she says. We're past the point of having to tread on eggshells about dad's death. There was a time when we couldn't even mention dad. Mum went into a deep depressive state after his accident, throwing herself into work at the hospital and barely focusing on anything else. I think she thought that if she could prevent the deaths of other people, their loved ones wouldn't have to go through what she did. I understand the principal of her thoughts but I'm glad it's passed. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life never mentioning my dad out loud.

I don't focus on this, however. Wyvern Mellark. Is that Peeta's dad? Did he give us bread? I don't recall anyone giving us anything. The funeral was very private and nobody really called on us for a while. 'To let us grieve' mum had later claimed. Then again, I had been a bit depressed too, doing exactly what mum did only with cheerleading instead of spending my days at the hospital. I wouldn't have noticed if the Mellark clan moved into our house and baked bread every morning for us.

"It was his youngest," Prim continues. "Right Katniss?"

"No," I lie unconvincingly.

"Yeah it is! His name's Ciabatta!" declares Prim.

"No, it's not, it's Peeta!" I throw back.

Prim bursts out laughing. "And you just proved my point!"

I realize this a second too late and throw my head into my hands in despair. I really didn't want mum and Prim finding out about me hanging around with Peeta. I knew they'd know he's underweight, their medical eyes are trained to notice anything like that. I suppose if we're going to be long term friends, I couldn't hide Peeta forever but I was hoping that I'd maybe have given him a little more of a nudge towards seeking medical help by then.

"Okay, so what?"

"I didn't know you were friends with Wyvern's children," Mum says.

"I'm not. Just Peeta," I answer.

"Didn't he used to be fat?" Prim asks.

"Prim!" Mum and I shout at once.

"What?!" she exclaims.

"That's not nice!" Mum snaps.

Prim rolls her eyes. She's enduring the in-between stages of teenage rebellion which I would normally let her go through peacefully waving my white flag but this time she's irked me. "Don't say that again, ok?" I snap.

Prim, again, rolls her eyes. However, she nods and returns to her writing. "Fine, whatever."

I'm fuming for the rest of the journey. Is all anyone can remember of Peeta that he used to be fat? He has so many other beautiful attributes that people just ignore because he used to be a little tubby. For fuck's sake, that's not all he is. 'Didn't he used to be fat?'! The nerve of it!

Once we're back at home, Prim hands me my crutches from the backseat and I drag myself out of the car. I retrieve my backpack from the trunk and say to Mum, "I'm going to the bakery to see if Peeta wants to come out for a bit to do some work together." Anything to get some fresh air. I feel like I'm suffocating being trapped in that house for most hours every day.

"Katniss," Mum calls when I turn around to leave.

I turn back. "What?"

Mum's expression is unreadable. Prim hurries past, books practically spilling out of her arms, and stumbles into the kitchen. "Be careful, alright? Mrs Mellark, she's . . . just be careful, okay?"

"Alright I guess . . ." I frown as I turn back round.

What could that possibly mean?


	11. Making Bonds, breaking bonds.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss bonds with an unexpected person and learns something jarring about the true extent of Peeta's mental health.

I've been to the Mellark Bakery before. My father took me once. Prim was only a baby at the time, perched on his hip and playing with the buttons on his shirt. I don't remember a lot from it. I was only little as well. The only thing I can vaguely recall is eating a pastry that tasted like cheese. It's one of the few memories I have of my dad. When he died, he took a lot of my memory of him with him. I do remember the way there though. It's on the other side of the District; a good few miles away from where I live. The exercise will do me good anyway, even if my good leg begins to ache when I'm nearly there from taking the brunt of my weight. It's a wonder my fingers aren't permanently cramped into claws from clutching the handles of my crutches.

When I arrive at the Merchant sector, I come upon the square; another place I haven't been to in years. Surrounding the square are multiple businesses. The main businesses. I don't know why I've never been down here before. You'd think I'd have been here often. It's basically the centre of the District. My mum is usually the one who goes shopping here and I always hung out with my friends just at the Seam estate.

Thankfully, the bakery is easy to see. It's near enough in the middle of the square. Besides, even if I couldn't see it, the sign saying 'Mellark's' would have given it away easy enough. I'm making my way across the square when I see her. She crosses my vision and I feel an impulse to jump underneath a bush and hide. I'm frozen to the spot, however, as she turns and sees me, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity

Madge doesn't think twice about approaching me. I consider running, except that's impossible because of my broken leg. I also consider climbing behind the shrubs and lying low, even though she already has me in her line of vision. When did she get back? Why didn't I hear that she was coming back?

"So it's true," Madge says, stopping before me and cocking her head. Her golden curls tumble off her shoulder in a waterfall and I try not to seethe with jealously. Gale must have a fetish for blondes or something. Except where Glimmer's hair is limp and lifeless, Madge's has always seemed to have an almost unnatural bounce and volume to it.

"So what's true?" I reply.

"You tried to kill yourself." Madge's eyes trail over me distastefully. "What reason do you have to kill yourself?"

"I didn't try to kill myself," I deny. "Who told you?"

Madge brushed her hair from her face, her crimson red nails making her lips stand out against her pale skin. "Gale told me," she said.

"Gale?! When the hell was this?" I exclaim.

"Yesterday," Madge frowned. "When I got back."

I close a lid on my rage at Gale for a moment to try to do the polite thing. "Oh yeah, you were away back to Spain," I say, pretending I had forgotten. "How are your parents?"

Madge eyes me suspiciously, searching for a motive. When she can't find one, she cautiously says, "Okay. Still sick but I had to come back for Halloween exams . . ." She folds her arms, suddenly authorative, and says, "And don't think I don't know about the games you and Gale have been playing while I've been away. Making each other jealous, the nerve of it! Are you both really that childish?"

I'm taken aback by her reaction. It's not that I didn't think she'd find out about my and Gale's flirting it's just her reaction to it is completely off putting. I thought she'd be mad. I thought she'd need one of her friends to hold her back while she tore off her earrings and tried to start a fight with me. "Aren't you . . . ?"

"What? Mad?" Madge scoffed. "I wouldn't give you the pleasure of it. I know full well that Gale's a player but when he's finished with everyone else it's always me he comes back to."

"Isn't that a bit annoying?" I ask.

Madge sighs. "Very."

Suddenly, I see Madge in a completely different light. I always thought of her as the slag who's been keeping Gale away from me but in truth it's Gale who's at fault. He's the one who always cheats on her when she leaves to be with her parents. And I'm usually the one who he flirts with. Madge isn't the slag . . . I am.

"I'm not interested in Gale anymore," I declare, even if my voice sounds unsure. "He's a complete . . . bell end."

Madge snorts. "That sentence got away from you pretty fast." She places a hand against her forehead and briefly closes her eyes. I see the frustration that washes over her face like a wave and instantly feel guilty. Madge cracks an eye open, sky blue iris narrowed in a confused frown. "Is it true that you've been spending time with Fatboy Mellark?"

"He's not fat and yes, it's true," I say.

"Weird. I believed the suicide thing faster than I believed that." She sits down on a bench by the shrubs and frowns at the ground. "Seems a lot of things have changed since I've been gone. I hear Cato Hadley even asked Fatboy out on a date. Gave him his lettermen jacket or something? What's the world coming to? Did I miss an announcement denouncing the food chain?"

"No," I admit, slipping an arm out my crutch loops one at a time to untangle myself from my schoolbag and throw it by the bench. I sit beside Madge and sigh. "And he's not fat."

Madge gives me a sidelong look. "Then what's happened?"

"Cato was being a douchebag as usual. He asked Peeta out because he wanted help with Chemistry. Thought because Peeta's tutoring me math that it automatically meant that he could mooch off of it," I explain.

"So that's why you're spending time with Fatboy Mellark?" Madge concludes. "For tutoring?"

"It began that way. But he's actually a really cool guy. Better than cool really. I don't really know the word for it," I say, waving if off flippantly. I frown to myself. "He's not fat, either."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Madge demands to know.

"Because he's not," I say.

"Of course he's not, it's just a name," says Madge. "I could have sworn you were the one who gave him it."

"If I was, I was wrong," I reply, looking at the ground shamefully.

Madge gapes at me for a long time. "Well the world truly is ending. Katniss Everdeen just admitted she's wrong. What's next? Gale decides to be celibate?"

"If that happens the world truly is ending," I chuckle.

We laugh.

Madge smiles. It's small but I catch it out of the corner of my eye. "You're alright, Katniss. When you're not being a bitch and trying to steal my boyfriend," she says. "You should try being nice more often. It suits you."

For some reason, her words made me smile. I'm alright. When not being a bitch, that is. "Thanks Madge," I find myself saying. Madge's eyes widen and she mimes her mind blowing. We laugh again. "I should probably get going. It'll be getting dark soon and I want to see if I can get some study time in with Peeta."

Madge nods. "That's fine. I should probably be getting home, too." She helps me stand up and even picks my schoolbag up for me. "I think the bakery is shut for the night but you can go around the side of the building and there should be a door that leads to their flat above. Knock before entering, though. Mrs Mellark is an anal witch."

Anal witch? Ew, that can't be good.

We part ways and I limp my way over to the bakery. There's a huge oak tree around the back that reminds me of the sort I used to climb in the woods. I touch the bark and inhale at the feeling of it against my hand. It's just as I remember it. Sharp and rough and a little springy. If my leg wasn't broken, I'd probably try to climb it.

There's a crash inside the bakery. It's so loud and I nearly fall over out of shock. Now there's screaming. Enraged screaming. Suddenly I feel like a trespasser and I hide behind the tree (don't ask me why, I was just sort of working on autopilot and did the first thing that came into my head). When the side door Madge told me about is thrown open, the screaming becomes louder and more distinct. I can understand what's being said much better now.

"Trust you to go and break your fingers you worthless brat! What use are you to me now if you can't bake?" A feminine voice rages. I press my back against the tree and bite my knuckles until blood is drawn. Is that Peeta's mother? Is she screaming at him? "Feed the burned bread to the pigs and don't bother coming back inside until I'm in bed. I can't stand the sight of you right now!"

The door slams shut again. I hear footsteps getting further away, going further around the back of the building. I peer around the tree and see everything as it had been before. Except there are soft footprints in the grass leading around to the back of the bakery. I follow the footsteps as it begins to rain and come to a halt at the sight of someone standing at a pen of pigs.

It's Peeta. Even if I can only see the back of him I know it's him. I feel the urge to hobble over to him but stay rooted to the spot instead, silently observing him. He's ripping something apart with impressive anger and vigour, throwing it into the pen so it splats in to the mud. That must be the burned bread. His arm lifts and his wipes his arm across his face. Across his eyes. My heart wrenches. Is he crying?

There's a bit of wire loose from the pen. I watch Peeta as he fingers it while the pigs devour the bread. I'm getting wetter by the second and so is he but it seems that neither of us care about that. I'm too transfixed and he's too broken to notice.

Almost as if in slow motion, I watch Peeta unwind the wire from the pen so it is long enough to reach his arm. I step closer, worried about what he's doing, and gasp in horror as he slices through his arm with the sharp end of the wire.

"Peeta!" I shout. My voice is quiet, smothered by the rain and thick air around us. Peeta hears me though. It would be hard not to in the bitter silence that had been the former atmosphere. My presence startles him. The wire falls from his hands and he nearly falls right over the fencing of the pen.

"Katniss!" he exclaims in shock, ice blue eyes wide with mortification. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you wanted to study!" I yell. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm feeding the pigs!"

"By slicing yourself?!"

Peeta falls silent. "You saw that then," he mutters. I run a wet hand through my hair, catching in the tangles of my braid. Then I notice something else. A bruise forming under his eye. Too recent to be given out by Gale. I reach out for him and touch his face with my soaked hands. He flinches, probably because of a mixture of pain and self-consciousness.

"Who did this?" I ask gently. "Was it your mother?"

"You don't know the full story Katniss," Peeta says, knocking my arm away so my hand is forced to leave his face. "I deserved it."

"Did you murder someone?" I ask. Peeta frowns at me and shakes his head. "Then you didn't deserve it." The wire suddenly makes me think of the marks I saw on his arms at Cashmere's party. The marks whose origin he was so blasé and nervous about describing. Both my hands go through my hair in frustration. "Goddamnit Peeta, how long has this been going on?"

"Has what been going on?"

"This! The abuse; the self-harming; even the anorexia!" The word makes Peeta flinch again, like he still hadn't admitted to himself that that was what was wrong with him. "You can't live like this. It isn't living at all!" My eyes fall on his arm. "Oh my god, you're bleeding." I grab his thin arm before he can stop me and look at the cut he's given himself. "That's really deep Peeta. What have you done to yourself?"

"It's not that bad," says Peeta.

I close my eyes at the thought of him giving himself worse than this. "You need stitches," I say. "You're going to have to come back home with me. My mum is a doctor. She knows how to stitch up cuts."

"That's not necessary."

"Do you want to bleed out?" I snap.

Peeta stares at me, his eyes so sad that I know what the true answer is. The answer he just won't bring himself to say. "I can't leave here," he tells me.

"I heard your mother screaming," I say. Peeta winces at the thought. "She doesn't want you in for a while. Plenty of time to come with me and get stitched up." Before Peeta can protest, I've fished my mobile out of my pocket and dialled my mum's number. "Yeah, mum? It's Katniss. Can you come collect me because the rain's really heavy and my cast is getting wet? Oh and by the way, I'm bringing you a patient."


	12. Beating Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Everdeen finally meets Peeta, treating the wounds he inflicted upon himself outside the bakery. A surprise occurs at the P2P ceremony but the outcome isn't as planned.

"So, yeah, there was a loose wire in the pig pen and whatever angle it was pointed out at it just caught his arm," I explain. Peeta sits on our kitchen counter, looking incredibly uncomfortable as my mother fusses around the kitchen, collecting things from various places to treat his arm with. Prim sits on the counter adjacent to Peeta's, swinging her legs merrily and watching mum carefully, probably memorising what was to be used to treat the wound.

"Was it rusty?" Mum asks, her voice echoed as her head is currently inside the cabinet below the sink.

I look to Peeta, unsure. "I-I don't think so," he replies. "The pen is just new, dad built it at the b-beginning of the week so . . ."

"Good, then I don't need to take you into A&E," says Mum. Even though she said she didn't have to take him into A&E, a panicked expression washes over Peeta's face. Mum smiles. "Would be your second visit in two days."

"Could have been a record," adds Prim.

I'm holding Peeta's arm almost possessively, holding a kitchen cloth against the bleeding wound. It's clear that being around a doctor and a trainee doctor is making Peeta nervous. I wonder how he was able to handle being in the hospital when Gale brought his fingers? Hopefully if they weren't able to notice his weight then, Mum won't notice it now.

"Katniss, lift the towel, I need to clean the wound," says mum. I do as she tells me and allow her to clean up the cut. "This may sting a little, Peeta. It's disinfectant." Mum drops some clear liquid into Peeta's wound and immediately Peeta winces in pain. His body shudders at the agony it causes and he reaches out towards me, almost subconsciously, with his free hand. I take his hand in both of mine and squeeze it tight.

"Prim, see if there's any painkillers in the medicine cupboard," I say.

Prim twists around to the cupboard behind her and rummages inside for painkillers. She tosses the box to mum who pops two pills out of the little plastic sheet. Since she sits beside the sink, Prim also fills a glass of water and passes it to me. "Take those before I start stitching," mum tells Peeta. "It might help with the pain."

Peeta looks unsure. He probably hasn't eaten today . . . would he be able to stomach pills? "Thank you Mrs Everdeen but I'm not very good at taking pills," he lies smoothly. "Gag reflex too sensitive and all that."

Mum glances at me and I nod, not even thinking twice about backing up his lie. "Do you think you'll be okay without it?" she asks.

"Here's hoping," Peeta says weakly. His face is ashen and I tighten my hands over his. I ignore the fact that I can feel the individual bones in his fingers without having to hold on all that tight.

The stitching process is quite interesting. I watch with avid curiosity as Mum cuts away the jagged flesh around the edges of the wound with a tiny scalpel and stitches it closed with a thin thread. Prim has even gotten off the counter to have a look. The only person not invested in the whole thing is Peeta, who is looking in a completely different direction and focusing on something that isn't the pain of the stitching. I'm still holding his hand, hoping that I am providing some form of comfort to him.

"Prim, can you do me a favour and wash the scalpel up in the bathroom. The rubbing alcohol such be under the sink," says Mum. "I want to talk to Katniss and Peeta alone for a moment."

I'm immediately alarmed by this and for once want Prim to hang around. Instead, she does as mum tells her too and takes the scalpel up to the bathroom. Mum doesn't talk for a moment. Instead she tidies up the mess she made in the hurry to stitch Peeta's wound before he bled out. She throws the kitchen towel into the washing machine and closes the lid before turning and pressing her back against it. She folds her arms and focuses on us with a cool, calculating expression.

"Peeta, I want to talk to you about your weight," she says. Her voice is devoid of emotion but nonetheless I nearly faint at her words. Peeta is silent. "Prim said that when she saw you studying with Katniss that you looked undernourished but I thought she was exaggerating. However," she pauses and I can practically see the cogs turning in her head to find the right way to word her next point, "the arm I just stitched is not a healthy size for a boy your age. And I think you know that."

I want to come to Peeta's defence but I don't know what to say. I look at him worriedly but he's staring at the floor, almost like my mother is scolding him for something.

"Have you been eating, Peeta?"

Silence.

"Leave him alone, Mum," I finally manage to say.

"Katniss, do you realize how dangerous this is?" Mum asks, her blue eyes burning into me like wildfire. I swallow hard and hold her gaze. "People die of this sort of thing, Katniss. It's not a game, you know." She crosses the kitchen and sits on a stool beside Peeta. "Look," she says to him, "I know this is a difficult time. Senior year; exams; adolescent pressure; but this situation doesn't seem like it can wait. Do your parents cook for your family? Have they noticed this sudden change in your appearance? Or do you eat regularly and there's something wrong with your body's consumption of it?"

Peeta still won't look at her. His shoes have suddenly become fascinating to him and he puts all his attention there. I'm still hanging onto his hand, like its anchoring me to the floor. Our fingers are intertwined and it comforts me that he obviously needs me holding him as much as need him holding me.

"I appreciate your concern, Mrs Everdeen, but it's not necessary," Peeta tells the floor. "I have everything under control."

"And what control is that, exactly?" asks Mum.

"I . . ." Peeta trails off. He clearly doesn't know what to say. It's clear nobody has shown so much concern about his weight deterioration and he doesn't have any pre-thought up answers He looks to me, blue eyes shining, almost pleading to me to get my mum to stop asking him such questions. A part of me wants to make him happy. Another part is conflicted because it wants Mum to continue and get him help. The final part is helpless, not knowing what to say even if it wanted to.

"Have your parents noticed this?" Mum tries to help him by asking.

Peeta shakes his head.

"Do you want them to know?"

Another shake of the head.

"How long ago would you say this started?"

"Since what started, Mrs Everdeen?" Peeta asks quietly.

"Since your body has deteriorated." I notice that Mum hasn't come right out with it and said 'been anorexic'. She has probably dealt with people with the same issue before. I catch Mum's eye and she stares at me. It's like, in that moment, she sees past me into my mind and unlocks the secrets I have regarding Peeta. She knows that I know about his illness, that I have kept it secret, and that I have probably signed his death warrant.

"Peeta, I'm going to suggest this to you gently and you by no means have to answer me now," Mum says carefully. "Would you be open to coming to the hospital someday soon and having a discussion with me about possible treatments for anorexia or bulimia?"

Hearing those words out loud jolts Peeta out of whatever passive state he was in. He jumps off the counter and detangles his hand from mine. "Thank you Mrs Everdeen but I truly am fine," he says. He looks at me and smiles weakly. "You're very lucky to have a mother who cares so much."

"You don't have to go," I say as he heads for the door.

"My mum will be looking for me," he replies without looking back. He's gone before I can take even one step closer to him.

I whirl around on Mum, anger filling me up. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yell at her.

"Katniss," Mum says in that measured voice of hers, "I want you to tell me the truth. Is Peeta unwell?"

"That's none of your damn business!" I snap.

Mum stands up from the stool. She's not much taller than me and is very lanky, however she still feels like a giant. She pins me down with that annoying parental stare of hers and repeats, "I want you to tell me the truth. Is Peeta unwell?"

I stand up as well. "I don't have to tell you anything," I say, reaching out for my crutches.

Mum takes me by surprise and grabs my shoulders. She shakes me a little. "Katniss!" she snaps, "this is beyond you being a prissy teenager. I understand you're going through a lot and I've been taking your attitude on the chin but this isn't about us. This boy's life is at stake. You do realize that people die of this sort of thing, right?"

"Of course," I mutter begrudgingly.

"Why won't you tell me?" Mum asks, her grip on my shoulders loosening.

"I promised," I say quietly. My eyes fall to the floor but I still feel hers burning into the top of my head. Then it just comes out. Just like it did in Doctor Aurelius' office. "Mum, Peeta is anorexic. He has been for . . . I don't know how long. Probably sometime after he lost the weight in Junior year. I've been trying to encourage him to go to the hospital but he won't listen to me." I inhale, feeling like a weight has been lifted off my chest, and breathe out shakily. "It's my fault."

Mum's gaze softens. She touches my face. "How could you possibly think that?" she asks.

"I was the one who started calling him fat," I tell her. "It's not just him, either. I've been doing it to loads of people since dad died and I've only realized recently how awful I've been and I don't know how to fix it and I think Peeta's going to die because he won't listen to me and he won't even make an effort to try to eat and . . . and . . ." It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room and I'm gasping desperately, trying to find some. Tears have gathered in my eyes and Mum is just staring at me, taken aback by my outburst.

"Katniss, calm down sweetheart," she says, pulling me against her into a hug. "It's not your fault. The fact that you're trying to fix things is evidence enough that you're not who you used to me."

"But he won't listen to me. You saw how he acts about it," I mutter into her shoulder.

"All we can do is try," Mum answers. "There is nothing else to be done."

~xXx~

The Past to Present Ceremony is a joke. All it consists of is the jocks and the rest of the top food chainers being called up on stage constantly to accept awards. I can't stand it anymore, especially when Glimmer gets called up three times to accept awards for cheerleading and accepting a heavy titled role at such short notice (my heavy titled role). They give me a medal for good sportsman ship but don't make me get up, instead having Glimmer herself come down and present it to me in my seat. I roll my eyes at the applause and throw it carelessly over my neck.

No one sees Glimmer and I glare at each other.

"We're nearly finished, you'll be glad to hear," Principal Snow jokes. I grind my teeth together but relief washes through me and I find myself smiling. Thank God! "The only thing left is to allow our new head of Pastoral Care, Mrs Lyme, to present an award to the group that she thinks-as a newcomer to the school-is most impressive."

By the grin on Snow's face, I think I can already tell who Mrs Lyme has chosen. Urgh, more sickly smiling and waving off Glimmer. Seriously, she has been behaving like it's a beauty pageant. I slid down in my seat and pray for it to be over as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Mrs Lyme takes the microphone off of Snow and moves to the centre of the stage. "Well, this school certainly knows how to congratulate the sports side of things," she grins. "But I think it's about time we acknowledge the academic side of District High." The smile drops off Snow's face like a hot potato. I push myself back up. What?

"There's a study programme," Mrs Lyme begins, "where students tutor those who are struggling. I've been observing this for a while and I have to say it's very impressive. I asked Mr Abernathy if he was responsible for it and he told me it was a group of students who approached him, asking for it to be organised so they could use their smarts to aid others."

My heart is in my throat and I can't stop smiling. No way . . .

"I want this award to go those children," she says. "The ones who maybe don't get enough acknowledgement for their efforts." She looks at a piece of paper I didn't notice was in her hand until now and says, "And those children are Johanna Mason, Annie Cresta, Finch Hannigan and Peeta Mellark."

I could have whooped I was so overjoyed. The applause is weak but I clap as hard as I can manage. At first I couldn't see them but then they appear to the left of the stage. Johanna, Annie and Finch are smiling but Peeta's trailing a little behind like he's about to be taken to the electric chair. Johanna turns around as they walk and grabs his wrist, egging him on a little as they clamour up the stairs.

The girls make Peeta accept the award off Mrs Lyme, even though he doesn't look even half as happy as they do. I begin to wonder why but that's when it happens. At the very back of the room, a voice shouts,

"He's even huge from back here!"

My eyes widen in horror as everyone bursts out laughing. Mrs Lyme looked horrified but Snow is obviously hiding a smirk. Johanna pushes through the group to the front of the stage, all fire and rage, and yells, "Come up here and say it again! I'll fuck you up you arrogant fucktard just give me a damn excuse!"

Mrs Lyme tries to get Johanna to back down and looks helplessly to Snow, who has disappeared behind the curtain. Glimmer then stands up and says, "I can see like ten chins just from here!"

Johanna's blazed eyes fall on Glimmer and she jumps off the stage. The people sitting in the seats around Glimmer scramble away as Johanna lunges and a fight breaks out in the audience. I'm stuck in my seat and I can't see much as everyone gathers around in the hall to witness it. I can't believe how fast everything fell apart!

Mrs Lyme drives herself into the middle of the fight and splits them up. Mr Abernathy holds Johanna back while Mrs Lyme holds Glimmer. Mrs Trinket is trying to get everyone to sit down but nobody is listening to her. I look to the stage desperately and see Annie and Finch trying to console Peeta. He doesn't look like he's listening to either of them. He looks . . . almost like he's in pain. He rubs the back of his neck and winces, waving off whatever they're saying to him flippantly.

He parts from them both and moves to the corner of the stage. The light hits him a different way and I see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Actually, he's sweating really badly. He holds his arm against his forehead briefly, eyes closed and lips moving silently as he tries to talk himself down. I want to run to him and help but I can't. Everyone's in the way and I'd get knocked over because I move so slowly.

Then it happens.

Peeta's face convulses in pain and his hand goes to his chest, clutching the material of his baggy shirt and digging into the skin underneath. His lips stop moving but his mouth stays open, like he's trying to say something but can't get the words out. Then, in less than a second, he collapses onto the stage with a loud bang.

"PEETA!" I scream, silencing the entire hall. All eyes go to the stage, where Annie and Finch have ran to where Peeta has fallen. Mr Abernathy lets go of Johanna and bolts to the stage, not bothering to take the stairs in the rush. Mrs Trinket ushers people out but doesn't see me still seated off to the side.

I heave myself up and move to the stage as fast as I can. My heart is pounding in my chest and I can't breathe. Mr Abernathy presses his ear against Peeta's chest and swears. "Mrs Lyme I need the emergency defibrillator now!" he says urgently.

Mrs Lyme runs to the back of the hall and smashes the glass holding the emergency defibrillator. "What's happened?" Annie asks, her hand over her mouth in shock.

"Back away girls," Abernathy orders.

"Tell us what's happened!" I shout. I'm still not at the stage yet but all eyes turn to me as soon as I speak.

"Peeta seems to have gone into cardiac arrest, Katniss, now let me do my job and help him!" Abernathy snaps at me. Mrs Lyme gives him the defibrillator. It's the sort you'd see on Hospital Soaps. The sort you never thought you'd ever see in action. Abernathy rips Peeta's shirt open to use them and that's when there's a long pause.

"Oh my god!" Finch cries out, tears glittering in her eyes.

I feel like I'm about to pass out. Peeta's ribcage is so prominent, Mr Abernathy isn't sure whether it would be safe to use the defibrillator or not. He tries anyway, for the sake of keeping Peeta alive, and when Peeta's body jumps at the voltage, there's a crack as it hits the floor again. Bruises are already forming along his right side; the side in which he fell on top of.

The defibrillator doesn't work until the third try and when it does, Peeta begins to breathe shallowly. I reach across the stage, my body pressed tight against it, and thread my fingers through his. "I'm here," I tell him, even if he can't hear me. "It's okay."

"The poor boy," Mrs Lyme says gently.

Annie and Finch are hugging each other. I wonder if they ever knew what Peeta was doing to himself. Did Johanna even know? She got dragged out of the hall by the ear by Mrs Trinket . . .

"That explains the heart attack," Abernathy says, almost to himself. He looks at Mrs Lyme. "Has an ambulance been called?" Mrs Lyme nods silently. "I knew he was having trouble at home but this . . . this is extreme."

"Don't listen to them," I say to Peeta's unconscious body. "You're fine." His eyes are fluttering, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. "You're beautiful."

When the ambulance does come, they try to tell me that I can't leave to come with him. "Let me go or I will break my other leg just to get there," I threaten. Abernathy says he'll supervise me to Lyme, who agrees and allows me to get into the van with Peeta.

I fear what is to come next.


	13. The Heart Wants What it Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss has a serious talk with Peeta in the hospital about his health. When at school, she defends his honour as much as she can and witnesses something shocking when wandering around the grounds.

"Do you have a number for his parents?"

I look to Mr Abernathy, who shakes his head solemnly. We sit in the waiting room while the Doctor sees to Peeta alone. My mum checked in on me earlier, concern written all over her, but couldn't stay long because she had other obligations. Nurse Paylor stays with us now, a clipboard on her lap as she fills in Peeta's details.

"His parents have always been very private people. We couldn't even get them to attend a Parent Teacher Meeting, let alone give us their home number," says Mr Abernathy.

"If you get my mum, she could call to the bakery on her way home when her shift ends," I say. I'm distracted. I'm so worried about Peeta I can barely think straight. My eyes keep returning to the door in which he's being treated behind. The whole ride here, Peeta remained unconscious. Sometimes I questioned if he was even breathing. I look at Paylor desperately. "How is he? Will he be okay?"

"You have to remain calm," Paylor tells me.

"Oh, trust me, I'm being very, very calm," I say as measured as I can manage. "If I were acting how I truly felt right now, you wouldn't be able to contain me."

"Has Mr Mellark ever showed symptoms to suggest that he's been unwell?" asks Nurse Paylor.

Mr Abernathy looks to me. "I don't know the boy that well," he admits. "Katniss, have you noticed anything?"

I chew on my lip anxiously. Nurse Paylor waits patiently, pen poised over the clipboard, ready to take note of anything I say. "Can you help him?" I ask her

"I can do my best," Paylor replies. "We have to know what's wrong first, though."

I lean forward, and so does Paylor. Abernathy sits back, almost as if he knows that what I'm about to say is exclusive information I'm not keen on everyone knowing. "Peeta's sick," I tell Nurse Paylor. "He's anorexic. I don't know how long he's been this way but I think it's why he had the heart attack. He didn't want me to tell anyone but there's no hiding it now. You guys probably would have guessed it once you seen him anyway, right?"

Nurse Paylor nods sympathetically. "I understand that you were trying to protect him," she says. "We can help him now. All he needs is support from those around him, especially when it gets tough."

"I'll do that," I say firmly. "I will."

"You really should have told someone," Mr Abernathy says.

"And betray him?" I whirl around and glare at him. "All Peeta gets from people is shit. Maybe I wanted to be one he actually trusts for once. Besides, who could I tell? You can't force someone to eat. I know you're a good teacher, Abernathy, but you're not that good. I've been trying to help him as much as I can and you know what? It's hard. It's goddamn hard. I just wanted him to listen but trying to tell Peeta that's not fat is as easy as trying to tell Glimmer that Gale Hawthorne is going to break her heart. It's not going to get through. And you know whose fault it is? Ours. My fault, the student body's fault, the school's fault."

Mr Abernathy rubs his hand over his face tiredly. "I can't wait to retire and get the fuck away from that school."

I thought I'd be alarmed hearing my math teacher curse but, actually, it quite fits the situation. "It's not you," I mutter. "It's Snow. If he'd just crushed the stupid food chain initiative before it started, everything wouldn't be as bad as it is now."

The door opens and the Doctor comes out. I'd stand up if I could but I can't. Abernathy and Paylor do, however, and all I can do is straighten up. "Is he okay?" I ask before anyone else can. "Will he live? He won't die, will he? Tell me he won't die?"

"Peeta won't die," the Doctor assures me. It feels like a weight has lifted off my chest and I exhale in relief. "He is, however, severely undernourished. It's a wonder he has managed to function as long as he has. He has a very low white blood cell count and his heart rate is abnormally slow. He's sustained two broken ribs from the fall at the time the attack occurred and there seems to be a lot of bruising around the body, not from the fall, but as a side effect to being so underweight."

"Was it a heart attack?" asks Abernathy.

The Doctor nods. "Sometimes undernourishment can cause severe heart problems due to hypertension, especially when it is intentional starvation. All of this has just been building up and building up until Peeta's system couldn't take the pressure and it gave out."

I rub my temples to try to ease the pain that's beginning to grow there. "Will you be able to help him?" I ask.

"Yes," the Doctor confirms. "I will do everything that I can."

"Can I see him? Is he awake?" I ask.

"He's awake," the Doctor confirms. "But I'd suggest only one of you going in. I don't want Peeta to get alarmed or self-conscious over what's happened to him."

"It's best if it's Katniss, I think," says Nurse Paylor. "Mr Mellark knows that Katniss is aware of his illness. I don't think finding out that someone else knows will help him right now."

"I agree," says Abernathy. My math teacher holds his hand out to me and helps me struggle to my feet. He gives my hand a squeeze and says, "Good luck, sweetheart."

The Doctor holds the door open for me as I enter. My crutches squeak against the abnormally clean floor and each new screech is like a hammer to my brain. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I release it when the door is shut behind me. The Doctor hasn't come in with me. I'm alone with Peeta.

Blue eyes swivel around to land on me. Peeta looks so small, lying in the hospital bed with the oxygen mask over his mouth and patches attached to his frail body. There's a catheter in his hand with a couple of wires also coming out of his arms, leading to various machines that continuously beep. One wire is even protruding from his chest, disappearing into his a huge bandage on his ribcage. His whole body seems to heave with every breath he takes, like every single one of them is a struggle.

"Hey," I croak, my voice strained and quiet. It's like my voice triggers something in Peeta's mind and he squeezes his eyes shut tight. It only takes me a second to realize he's crying. "Don't cry, please," I beg, throwing myself into the seat by his bedside and gripping his arm tight. "It's okay. You're safe here. They're going to help you."

Peeta shakes his head silently.

"Yes," I insist. "They're going to make you better." I know why he's upset. He thinks they're going to trick him into eating. Eating, in his mind, is what will make him fat. So it will seem like I'm lying to him, saying that they're going to help him. Eating isn't help, in his head. Eating is the exact opposite of help.

"Please just look at yourself Peeta," I beg. "You're not well. We're all just trying to help you. You shouldn't listen to what those assholes in school say about you. You're fine the way you are. Just not like this."

"What happened?" Peeta asks me quietly. His voice is quickened and his question sounds more like a gasp than anything else. It makes me feel ill that even speaking is a struggle now.

"Didn't the doctor tell you?"

He shakes his head again.

I wonder why the doctor didn't tell him. Maybe there's a reason for it. Should I tell him? Is it my place to tell him? I glance nervously at Peeta, who's watching me intently. He trusts me to tell him as it is because that's all I've done my entire life. I feel an impulse to touch his hand but I'm scared that I'll tug on one of his wires. This small fact makes me feel like there's a thick divide between us both. Like I'll never be able to touch him again.

"You had a heart attack," I tell him. Is there a gentle way of putting something like that? I reach out to try but quickly retract my hand again. I can't touch him. I don't have the right to do that. "You have hypertension or whatever. Can't you see what this is? Your body is telling you that you're going too far."

"Or," Peeta pauses and took a deep breath, "not far enough."

My chest constricts painfully and I close my eyes briefly. There has to be something I can say. Something I can do. "Are you going to let them help you?" I ask.

"I don't need help," says Peeta.

"Yes you do," I insist. "They're not going to let you go until you're healthy enough to go. Or at least until they're confident that you're going to make a change."

Peeta pulls his oxygen mask off his face and struggles to sit up. A 'don't' dies on my lips as despite what I say, he's not going to listen to me. "They can't keep me here," he says. He's pulling the patches off his body and I don't know how to stop him.

"Peeta, calm down, just stop a minute and think"-

"I'm taking care of myself just fine. I don't need help from anyone else," he mutters, almost like he's talking to himself.

"Peeta"- I begin. I try to stop him from pulling off the patches but twists away from me.

"Katniss, you don't understand. I'm never going to be okay. I'm not staying in this hospital forever!" Peeta says, almost hysterically. How do you calm someone down when they're having a panic attack?

"Just slow down a minute. Stop and think about what you're doing." Is there any paper bags around here?

Peeta rips his catheter out of his hand, wincing at the pain it causes, and gets off the bed. Instantly, he crumbles underneath his own weight. "Peeta!" I yelp. I lurch forward and catch him. It's disturbing how it easy it is for me to hold him in my arms. "Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just my r-ribs," Peeta winces, struggling to stand up. I help him prop himself up against the bed. He touches his side and hisses in pain. I wonder if he could feel the actual broken rib. Is that sort of thing possible?

"Lie down again Peeta and try to calm down," I tell him.

"I can't stay here, Katniss," says Peeta. He's begging me to understand and I wish I could. "She'll kill me. I need to get out of here."

"Slowdown, who will kill you?" I ask. He tries to get up again but I press my hands against his chest to keep him sitting.

"My mother! She'll . . . she'll . . . oh my god . . . this isn't good, this isn't good at all . . ." Peeta runs his bony fingers through his hair, his hands trembling violently. "I'm a dead man already Katniss, can't you see that?"

"Peeta, you're not . . ." I trail off, knowing that it's no use. "Your mother won't kill you. It's not your fault you had a heart attack. She'll understand . . ."

Peeta stares at me like I'm mad. "You don't know her," he said, his voice firm as a rock.

How bad could this woman be that Peeta is convinced that she'll kill him when she finds out he's in hospital for a heart attack? She already beats him-and probably his brothers-for things that are beyond their control. Surely she wouldn't be that cruel? What sort of human being is she?

"You're right, I don't," I answer. I reach across his bed and gently press the red button that calls for a doctor. Peeta is going need help getting hooked back up. He doesn't stop me from doing this and just stares at my thumb against the button glumly. "But what I do know is that mother or no mother you'd be a fool not to let these people help you."

"What if I am a fool?" Peeta challenges.

"You and I both know that you're not."

Peeta tries to respond but instead he gasps. Taking off his oxygen mask has begun to take its toll. I pick the mask up off the bed and help him put it back on. He takes a few minutes to regain his breathing and I wait patiently, studying the way his forehead creases with effort and his jaw clenches in pain. Everything he does is fascinating, even when he's ill.

"I'm scared, Katniss," Peeta finally says. His voice is so quiet I almost don't hear him. However, what he says is so poignant, it's hard for me to misunderstand.

"I am too," I reply, threading my fingers through his and squeezing his hand tight. "Whatever happens, I'm with you, okay?"

Nurse Paylor enters the room, face flustered and panting slightly. Mr Abernathy looms behind her, clearly worried by why she had to rush in here so suddenly. "Mr Mellark, why are you out of bed?" she asks in concern.

I ignore her and focus on Peeta. "Are you going to let them help you?"

Peeta uses whatever strength he has left to squeeze my hand back. And, with unsure finality, he gives me a solidary nod.

~xXx~

Entering school again is jarring. It feels like every eye is on me, watching my journey from the door to my locker. I wanted to stay at home. I asked Mum if I could skip school and come to the hospital with her but she told me no. That I'm in my last year of school and my grades are what matters. I was annoyed-and I still am-but fighting with my mum is like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall. So here I am, lumbering to my locker like a social piranha. No one dares approach me. No one dares to speak to me.

Except one.

"Is he alright?" Clove asks. It could be misinterpreted as trying to get the latest gossip to spread around but I know Clove like the back of my hand. The way her top lip twitches on the right side and her eyes flicker worriedly. She's genuinely concerned about Peeta.

"He went into cardiac arrest," I explain to her. "It could be months before they let him out of hospital."

"Jesus," Clove mutters, running her fingers through her hair as we make our way to form room. "What was it? Do they know?"

I shake my head. "No, they don't. They're trying to find out though." Besides the fact that the doctors, myself, my mother, and Mr Abernathy now know about Peeta's eating disorder I still feel like it's my job to keep it secret. I'm not letting rumours run wild around the school about him. Especially where it involves his illness.

"This school is fucked up," Clove declares. "Have I been wearing a sleep mask or something? Has it always been this way here? I mean, for fuck's sake, they couldn't even let them accept a reward without starting a fight!"

"It's our fault," I conclude. "We should have recognized what we were doing earlier than this."

"I can't believe I treated people this way. I almost want to run to the hospital and tell Peeta that I'm sorry." Clove looks at her black sneakers as they slap against the floor with every step she takes. "I want to tell them all that I'm sorry . . . Do you think it's too late?"

I shrug. "I don't know about the others," I say. We stop outside our form room and I take a deep breath to smooth down my nerves. "But Peeta will forgive you."

Clove seems to brighten at this. "Do you think so?" she asks.

I nod firmly. "I know he will."

If he can forgive me-the girl who created the nickname that caused his illness-then he will forgive Clove. Clove never really pushed him or the others that hard. She would insult them behind their back and maybe push them around a little but never to the extent that Glimmer and I did. Out of the three of us, Clove had always been the most level headed. Which is strange because she was always the one who took on the physical fights with people. I'm glad that she wants to change her ways like me. Maybe it's not much but two people retuning themselves will hopefully make the world of difference.

We enter the classroom and I'm immediately bombarded with a million and one questions.

"Is Mellark alive?"

"What exactly happened?"

"Did you see him after he collapsed?"

"Is he dead?"

I wave them all off. They don't care about Peeta. They just want to know to have something to say to their friends. The only people I am going to tell the full story to are his friends at break. The people who would actually care and won't find the first person to gossip to about it. I don't know whether they know about his anorexia but judging upon Finch's reaction, I don't think they do.

I don't need to tell my classmates anything anyway. As soon as the bell rings, Ms Trinket enters with an ashen face. Even with her ridiculous pink make-up she looks glum. She puts her handbag down onto her chair and sits on the edge of her desk. She looks at us solemnly and sighs.

"As you all know, last Friday at the Past to Present Ceremony your fellow classmate Peeta Mellark collapsed and was taken to hospital," she explains. Clove reaches across the space between our tables and pats my hand. The small gesture settles me a little and I smile at her in appreciation. "I'm sure there are rumours flying around about what really happened . . . The truth is he experienced cardiac arrest that has left him in bad condition in the hospital. I don't want to hear any more untrue stories bouncing around the school now that you all know. I can't and won't stand for gossip."

Ms Trinket's plea is futile. Even telling the students the truth will prompt rumours. Why did Peeta go into cardiac arrest? What caused it? Really, the truth will make it much worse than if she had just left it alone. But I feel like every form teacher has been instructed to do the same with their students. Everyone was at the P2P ceremony. Everyone saw Peeta fall. There would obviously be questions and the teachers think they're doing the right thing by answering them. They haven't. They've just made it so much worse.

It's difficult to concentrate on my morning lessons. Clove does most of my work for me, saying that she knows the equations we're supposed to use and can just do them for me. My mind is completely focused on other things. I know Peeta wouldn't want me to fluff my studies but I physically can't focus. Not without the knowledge that he's going to be okay . . .

Break time comes but it feels like it's been years. I tell Clove that I'm going to find Peeta's friends. She understands and we head off in different directions. I look for Johanna, Annie and Finch outside. I don't know if they all hang out together or not but I search everywhere I can think of.

I find Johanna and Finch at one of the lunch tables, a chess set sitting between them. When I approach, Johanna doesn't sneer or crack an insult. She raises her eyebrows and says, "We heard, you know."

"I know," I reply. Finch moves up on her bench and pats the space beside her. I gratefully sit down and lay my crutches on the gravelly ground beneath us. "I just wondered if you wanted to hear the full story."

"Do you know it?" Finch asks, green eyes gleaming in the morning sunlight. Huh. She's actually kind of pretty. Her orange hair looks smooth and falls down her back in a lovely stream.

I nod. Johanna is weary of me, knocking one of Finch's pieces over with her own. "Check mate." When she focuses on me, she says, "How do we know you're going to tell the truth? Why do you-of all people in this godforsaken school-know what happened to Peeta?"

"I wasn't supposed to find out," I tell them. I shift uncomfortably under Johanna's gaze. "If he had wanted to tell someone, I'm sure he would have went to one of you guys first."

"Find out what?" Johanna asks suspiciously.

I look around. "Where's Annie?"

"Not here," Johanna says immediately. "Find out what?"

Whichever way I tell them this, I'm going to come out as the bad guy. I'm probably going to walk away from this table with a black eye when Johanna discovers the truth. I put my hands on the table and fiddle with my fingers to distract myself. "Peeta . . . hasn't been eating. For a long time now. He never elaborated to me how long but I would guess it started Junior Year. On Friday his doctor officially diagnosed him with anorexia."

Finch immediately puts her head in her hands, pressing them against the table despondently. "I can't believe this," she whispers.

"I can," Johanna says stiffly. "We've never seen him eat since he lost all his baby weight. Since his nickname has clung to him I suppose this sort of thing was inevitable." She lifts her eyes and glares at me. "And it's you and your people's fault!" she hisses.

My eyes drift to the ground shamefully. "I know," I say quietly.

"Don't expect a pity party either, Everdeen. I know you're reforming or whatever but it doesn't excuse what you've done to him!" Johanna continues.

"I don't expect anything from you," I reply. "I just thought you had a right to know the truth. I haven't told anyone else because who knows what sort of shit storm will come of it. The rumours are bad enough as it is."

"What caused the cardiac arrest?" Finch asks meekly. She isn't angry as much as upset.

"The doctor said hypertension," I answer.

Finch nods. She doesn't need it explained the way I did. Johanna taps her fingers impatiently against the table. I watch her wearily, wondering how long it was going to take before she explodes at me. I tense, preparing myself for the inevitable punch but instead, her eyes drift from where they had been pinned to the chess board and meet mine.

"I don't blame you," she says. "I'm sure he doesn't either."

I'm so taken aback I almost don't find words to respond with. "What?" I say stupidly.

"You weren't the only person to call Peeta fat, Katniss," Johanna explains to me. "Kids teased him long before you fabricated 'fatboy'. In Elementary and even a little before that. You weren't all that bad back then. You piling on top just didn't help. Especially not with . . ." She trails off and huffs angrily.

"Do you think she . . .?" Finch trails off as well. She and Johanna lock eyes, seeming to have a telepathic conversation without me,

"I wouldn't put it past her," Johanna eventually huffs.

"Put past who? Are you talking about me?" I demand to know.

Johanna shakes her head. When she doesn't answer my question, Finch says, "We're talking about Hayden Mellark. Peeta's mother."

"What about her?" I ask.

Finch shakes her head. "I can't say."

I wonder if Hayden ever called Peeta fat. She seems like a horrid woman, I too wouldn't put it past her. Nor would I be surprised if I heard that she had. I pluck one of the smaller pieces off the chess board since the game seems to be over and play with it anxiously. "Will you tell Annie for me?" I ask.

Johanna nods. "Yeah, we will," she says. I nod my thanks and pick up my crutches. Finch gives me a little push as I heave myself up, helping me keep up when I'm up. "Hey Katniss."

"Yeah?"

Johanna doesn't look at me, instead picking up the chess piece I left on the table and pockets it. "Feel free to come to me after school. I can tutor you while Peeta's not well."

Her offer overwhelms me and almost sit down again. "Are you sure?" I ask her.

"Of course. Any friend of Peeta's is a friend of ours."

"Wow . . . thank you," I say gratefully. Johanna nods curtly. Finch smiles weakly, clearly still upset over what I've told them about Peeta.

I decide to take the long way around the school. Even though I should really be using the shorter way because of my leg, I need the fresh air to clear my head. The long way takes you around the back of the old school mobiles which are desolate and have green sludge crawling up the walls. It stinks but at least it's away from the rest of the student body.

I'm brushing thickets and vines out of my path with my crutches when I see the outline of two people. Probably two students who snuck out here for a blow or something. As I get closer, I see that I am half right. They're kissing, holding each other so tight it's almost as if they believe someone is going to snatch the other away.

When I'm near enough to hear the squelch of swapped saliva, I stop dead.

Oh my god.

Is that Annie and Finnick? As in Finnick Odair from the football team and Annie Cresta the English Whiz?!

My foot crunches against a branch and they snap apart. Annie gasps in shock and immediately looks to Finnick, who's glaring at me like I chucked a football at his head. He pushes Annie away like she clambered onto him herself and that he had no part in it whatsoever before marching past me and hissing, "You saw nothing!"

"Finnick!" Annie pleads, rushing past me as well as she runs after him.

I stand frozen to the spot for at least ten minutes after they leave.

What the hell did I just witness?


	14. Visting Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss visits Peeta in hospital. They discuss many things, resulting in an escapade in the bathroom with the shower head.

My mum takes me to visit Peeta after school. We stop at the garage for gas and I go inside, having a desire to purchase something for him. What should I get him? Chocolates are out of the question. I don't have enough money for a bear or any trinkets either. Flowers? That won't seem too girly or frilly, will it? I wander all the aisles and come up with nothing. Well that's just great.

As I'm exiting the garage, I notice some dandelions on the smattering of grass by the roadside. I pluck one of them from the ground and cradle it in my hand. It isn't much but I think Peeta will appreciate what it means. A part of me wishes I had kept the dandelion he had given me in First Grade for as long as possible. Instead I threw it away in disgust when Leevy informed me that if you touch the bottom of the stem, you'll wet the bed. I carry the dandelion back to the car and hold it in my cupped hand for the entire ride to the hospital.

"Peeta has something to tell you," Mum says as we enter the hospital building.

"Really?" I ask, my curiosity immediately peaked. "What is it?"

"You'll find out when you see him," Mum replies with a knowing smile.

We part ways as she heads off to the ward where she works and I go to find Peeta in his private room. I have it memorised. Every twist and turn engraved itself in my head during the rush to get Peeta to theatre. I'm glad that memory is over and the only time I have to relive it is in my nightmares.

When I find his room, I knock before entering. I feel like a stranger about to enter someone's home. "It's Katniss," I add for good measure.

"Come on in." When I enter, Peeta is shaking his head with a wide smile on his face. It's such a relief to see him smile. It feels like it's been forever.

Peeta is sitting up in bed. I wish I could say that he looks better. That a couple of days in the hospital have done him wonders but I can't. He's still very sick looking but the fact that he is smiling and does seem genuinely happy does take the years off his gaunt figure. All the same wires are still coming out of his body and his back his propped up with a pillow in an attempt which I assume is to ease the pressure off his broken ribs.

"Why are you knocking, you silly woman?" he asks me. "You're welcome to come in whenever you want."

"I know, I was just a bit . . . I don't know," I say, shutting the door and hopping across the room. "I didn't know what to bring you so I just picked this." I pass him the dandelion and, no joke, the sight of it makes his face light up like a star. "Oh Katniss, it's beautiful," he whispers.

"Is it?" I ask. "I mean, it's a weed."

Peeta shakes his head. "Some of the most beautiful things in this world are the things we see every day but dismiss," he tells me. "This has made my day, Katniss, thank you." When he looks into my eyes, I see genuine gratitude in the blue pools. I feel honoured to have made him feel so happy and I will do whatever I can to continue doing so for him.

"My mum said you have something to tell me," I say, sitting down on the seat beside his bed.

"Uh yeah," he replies, suddenly sheepish. "I've been put on a diet plan-one I'm not at all keen on-which my doctor says will ease me into eating properly again and . . ." He trails off and frowns, as if he believes what he's about to say isn't that big a deal.

"And . . . what?" I ask him.

"I, um, ate an entire bowl of soup," he mutters, too nervous to meet my eyes.

"Oh my God, Peeta, that's amazing!" I declare, lurching forward and hugging him. Peeta yelps and I move back sheepishly, having forgotten about his ribs. I sit down again and grab his hand. "That's fantastic, Peeta!"

"I didn't think it was that big a deal . . ."

"That big a deal?!" I exclaim. "Peeta, this is brilliant! It mightn't seem like much now but trust me, it's a stepping stone. You're on the road to recovery and you have no idea how happy it makes me to know you're co-operating with your doctors!"

Peeta plays with the fabric of the bed covers sheepishly but the proud smile on his face is hard to miss.

"Are they starting you off on soup or did you choose it or . . . ?" I ask.

Peeta pulls a face. "They tried a sandwich but . . . when they left I couldn't handle knowing I'd eaten it and I panicked and threw it back up."

I keep the smile on my face, knowing that frowning or looking upset in any way will probably remove any pride he had previously felt. It worries me that he threw up but I know something like this can't have a speedy recovery. Soup is good. Soup is food. He's eaten food. He will hopefully keep eating this when it's given to him.

"Hey, that's fine," I say. "You've still eaten. Focus on that." I feel like a bit of a dork because I'm physically unable to keep the smile off my face. "So are they doing anything else? Is there anything else they can do? Or do you just stay here until you eat yourself to a comfortable weight?"

"Well, I have an in-hospital counsellor," Peeta tells me. "I have to talk to him every two to three days about," he nods to his arms, probably in reference to his self-harming.

"Has your family been to see you?"

"My dad and Rye have done," Peeta explains. "Jamie has been away at College and the visiting hours don't fit well with his classes. Dad says he's going to try and visit over the weekend."

I frown at our joined hands. "What about your mother?"

There's a pause and when I look at Peeta, who's frowning as well. "Dad says that she's minding the bakery but I know he's lying."

"What makes you say that?"

"My mother doesn't like weakness," he explains. "It disgusts her. I don't think she wants to see me. What am I saying? She doesn't want to see me."

I imagine the woman who I heard roaring at Peeta that night in the rain. I suppose it isn't that far-fetched to believe that that woman despises weakness. What made her so strong? What gave her the right to pass judgment on others based on their strength? I touch my forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. I wish I could meet this woman so I can smack her across the face.

"I'm sure that's not true," I say. What else am I supposed to say? I don't know Peeta's mother. I believe him when he says that she hates weakness-which makes me despise her-but I can't say that I think she's horrible because he's never expressed animosity towards her himself.

Peeta smiles, like he appreciates my saying this, and gives my hand a squeeze. When he doesn't say anything, however, I try to find something else to talk about. Something that hasn't anything to do with illness or family. I don't want my visits to constantly be about discussing frightful topics. There has to be something I could say to begin a conversation . . .

"Are Annie and Finnick dating?" I blurt out.

Peeta's eyes widen in surprise and he asks, "What makes you ask that?"

"I saw them kissing," I clarify. "But once they saw me Finnick flipped his lid and told me that I didn't see anything. Are they dating in secret or something?" The look in Peeta's eyes confirms my suspicions and my mouth falls open in surprise. "Oh my god. Really? Since when?"

"You really can't tell anyone," Peeta insists. He sounds so deadly serious it takes me by surprise. "Finnick will leave Annie if anyone else finds out. That will kill her."

"Why would he leave her?" I ask.

"Katniss. Finnick is on the football team. Annie sits with me and the girls at 'Loser's End' as you guys call it," Peeta says. "Finnick won't let love ruin his reputation."

"Love? What the hell do you mean 'love'?" I demand.

Peeta leans back in his bed and picks at the tubes in his nose. "Annie and Finnick started dating a couple of months after yourself and Finnick broke up. It was fast but they grew close extremely quickly. Their relationship was like an avalanche. Once the first signs of affection appeared, they tumbled downhill into love within minutes. And by minutes I mean a few months."

"Oh. Wow." I can't believe something like that has been going on without anyone knowing. Who else has been hiding their true feelings because of the fear of losing their creditable rep? How many people-like Finnick-have disguised themselves just to stay popular? Was being popular so important?

I think of myself. The things I had been willing to sacrifice just to stay on top. I never thought that I was the only one who behaved this way but I didn't for one second think that those like Finnick would go as far as hiding true love. Then again, I didn't believe that those like Finnick would fall in love with someone who could ruin their reputation. Now that I'm aware of it, the rage for the school system grows stronger within me. If only this food chain idea had been denounced before it truly began then everyone's lives would be easier. Except instead of snuffing the idea, Snow threw gasoline on it. Who let him be the principal anyway? How did such a horrible man get such a powerful position?

Peeta doesn't say any more about his friend's relationship and I don't push it. It's clear that he promised Annie that he wouldn't say anything and going into detail that's unnecessary to explaining what I saw is something he refuses to do. So instead, we play cards against humanity. I brought my pack from home to show Peeta how the game worked.

"What's there a ton of in heaven?" I say, setting the black card down on the bed. I shuffle through my white cards and pick up the one most relevant to the black. "Nazis."

Peeta laughs. "Nazis, really?"

"God's an asshole," I grin back. "What have you got?"

Peeta puts down his own white card and I snort with laughter. "Crucifixions?!"

"Better that Nazis!" Peeta says.

"Oh god, you win this one," I say, passing him the black card. It's wonderful spending time with Peeta like this. Without the worry of being judged by others or of his illness. It just feels so good to just sit and have a laugh with him. While I'm reshuffling the black cards, I ask, "How do you shower in this place? Is there like a communal room or do you get your own?"

"There's one in the bathroom, through there," Peeta answers. "Do to the nature of what's wrong with me I'd doubt they'd make me use a communal one." He picks at his catheter thoughtfully. "I hope anyways."

"They wouldn't," I say. "It wouldn't make sense."

"I haven't used it yet, mind you. I'm not strong enough," Peeta replies.

"Can't Nurse Paylor help you?" I ask.

Peeta shrugs. "I'm not all that keen on her seeing . . . well . . . you know."

I stop shuffling the cards and stare at him. "It's her job to help, you know," I remind him. "She's not going to judge you."

"I keep saying that to myself but trying to convince myself of things is very difficult," Peeta explains to me.

This does seem to be true, especially with the point we are now at taken into account. If Peeta had been able to convince himself when we were Juniors that he'd lost enough weight then we wouldn't be here now. Maybe a part of him knows, he just can't convince the rest of himself that it's true.

"You can't not shower," I say. "We still don't know how long you'll be here for." I scratch my head, trying to think of a solution to this problem. I'm suddenly reminded of when Prim was sick with the measles. She had been so tired and weak that I used to sit her in front of the bathroom sink and wash her hair over it. She didn't need to remove her blanket or do any work. I called it playing hairdressers as to keep her smiling.

"I could wash your hair over the sink for you," I tell Peeta. "Is there a sink in the bathroom?"

"There is but I couldn't possibly ask that of you." Peeta replies, shaking his head like the whole idea is ridiculous.

"Don't be silly," I say. "It's no problem." I stand up and only liberate one of my crutches. Walking without them is getting easier which makes me hopeful that maybe my leg is healing faster than expected. I examine the wires hooked into Peeta's arms. "Are these important?"

"They're taking my vitals, I think," Peeta answers. He sounds weary, still unsure about letting me do this for him. Now that the idea is planted in my head, I really want to do it. I want to do something to help, even if it's a minute thing like giving him a hand to wash up.

"Are you allowed to take them out?" I ask.

"To go to the bathroom, yeah."

As I peel the little patches off Peeta's arms, he fidgets nervously with the bedsheets. I pull the cannula out of his nose, hoping to god that he'll be able to breath on his own for the next half hour which I'm fairly confident he will be because he told me it's only for when he's resting anyway. Once everything is out except his catheter, I lean over the bed and pull the drip in which it's attached to around to the same side as me. "Okay, I think the best way to do this is to hook your arm around my neck and we do this as a group effort."

"Katniss, your leg"-

"Is fine," I interrupt. "Come on."

Peeta hesitantly does as I say and hooks his arm around me. I wind my own arm around his small waist and help him out of bed. While I lean against my crutch on one side, Peeta clutches his drip in the other. If anyone walks in, they're going to think we're both bonkers. Walking to the bathroom is comical as we both have things holding us back. It's not really walking as much as it is lumbering. I think it takes us ten minutes on a whole just to cross the room.

"Look at us," I laugh. "We're so pathetic."

Peeta grins as well. "Honestly, I was expecting it to take us longer."

The bathroom has all the appliances that you would find in a disabled bathroom in a shopping mall. Inside the shower cubicle, there's a seat which I pull out for Peeta to sit down on. "I used to do this for my sister when she was sick," I explain to him as I yank the shower head off its holder and turn the water on. "She always said it was very soothing."

"But she was your sister," Peeta says unsurely.

"Your point being?" I ask, adjusting the temperature with the little knob on the wall.

"It's okay for you to do things like that with your sister."

"Peeta, I'm washing your hair, not sharing a bath with you," I chuckle. Peeta falls silent and look over my shoulder at him. He's staring at the floor. "Hey, it's okay, you know. If old Katniss had been here, demanding to wash your hair . . . I'd be worried as well. But it's not old Katniss. It's me. New Katniss. The better Katniss. I'm not going to abuse your trust in me."

Peeta nods, like he already knows this.

The water reaches a temperature I'm satisfied with and I press a towel against the lip of the sink before telling Peeta to lie back against it. I gently wet a small section of his hair and ask, "Is that okay? Not too hot or anything?"

"No, no, it's fine," he replies. His voice quivers a little and my heart stutters. I don't want him to be afraid of me in this way. He needs at least one person he can trust with the intimate stuff like this. It seems that his family is out of the question. He doesn't want the doctors to see him so vulnerable. His friends are at the study programme during visiting hours. That leaves me. Maybe if I do this right, he will trust me to help in this way more often.

"The homecoming game is next week," I say, trying to start a conversation while I work.

"Do you think you'll go?" Peeta asks. After a couple of minutes of being tense about this, he has relaxed a bit. Not completely but more than what he had been earlier. His eyes are closed to avoid the little splashes of water that rebound off the sink from getting into them. I almost miss them. I like staring into those deep blue crystals while I talk to him.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I don't know if I want to see Glimmer prancing around at the front of the squad. She'll have her skirt hiked up so high those in front row will see things no sane person should be granted visual access to."

Peeta chuckles. "She does have a knack for the provocative," he agrees. A pause. "Are you going to attend the dance?"

"With who?" I ask bitterly. "I don't know if going stag is really the right thing to do."

"I thought this whole 'make Gale Hawthorne jealous' thing was all going to cumulate at the dance? I thought that's what it was all leading up to?" asks Peeta.

I shake my head. "Madge is back in town."

Saying this is enough and Peeta nods. "I see," he says. "Has Gale dumped Glimmer yet then?"

"I don't think so," I say. "I haven't heard anyway. It's only a matter of time though." I look around the bathroom and grab a small bottle of shampoo. "This is not enough to last you three days!" I exclaim. "Let alone longer than a week. Next time I come, I'll bring you a bottle."

"That's okay, Katniss, really," says Peeta. "You don't have to."

"You're right," I reply. "I don't. But I want to."

I squeeze the shampoo onto my hand and put it through Peeta's hair. I've never realized until now how soft his hair actually is. I'm actually enjoying doing this for him. And maybe I spend a bit longer than necessary pushing my fingers through it to rub the shampoo in. I shake myself to my senses and rinse off my hands.

"So," I say, "if you hadn't went into cardiac arrest . . . would you have went to the dance?"

"I might have done," Peeta says.

"Did you have a particular date in mind?" I ask, picking up the shower head and rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. I lean back against the shower cubicle and lift up my leg. An ache is beginning to set in from standing too long.

Peeta is quiet again. I worry that I've crossed a line. "I had someone in mind," he eventually says, "but it would never have worked."

"Do I know them? Do you want me to talk to her for you? Or him? I know you probably won't be able to attend the dance but I could ask them if they're interested in dating you? Drop a couple of hints, talk you up, that sort of thing?" I ask.

"Still wouldn't have worked."

"Why not?"

"You can't talk yourself up, Katniss."

It's my turn to be quiet. I completely forgot that Peeta had feelings for me. He more or less told me that day in my house. That day that I kissed him. As we remain in silence, my eyes fall on his lips. The lips I stole his first kiss from. I can't help thinking about how I want to do it again. About how Peeta is so much more of a better person than Gale. How where Gale uses brute force and ignorance, Peeta uses kindness and sensibility. If there were a contest to evaluate who is better for me, Peeta would win by a landslide.

But just because he used to have feelings for me doesn't mean he still does.

When I'm finished, I switch off the shower and grab a towel from the linen closet. I help Peeta sit up and dry his hair, even though he tries to insist to let him do it himself. As I remove the towel, I snicker at how his hair stands up in all directions, sticking upwards with static. Peeta laughs as well and his eyes focus on me.

It's like the beautiful azure blue of his eyes make my decision for me. The conclusion I really should have come to long before now.

Peeta is who I should be with.

I lean forward and press our lips together.

A beat.

He kisses me back.


	15. Defending Our Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss takes Clove to visit Peeta in hospital and they have an interesting conversation. A confrontation with Gale and Cato in school leads to Snow making a decision that ruins Katniss' motivation.

Once the decision is made, it's like everything else becomes so much clearer. How I haven't noticed that Peeta is the right person for me is beyond my comprehension. Now that I have realized the truth, I don't intend to let him go. It won't be easy . . . that much is clear. But I'm willing to fight for it and I know Peeta is to.

I take Clove to visit Peeta the day after we kissed. We haven't talked about it. We don't need to. I think Peeta understands-if not with a twinge of amazement and disbelief-that I want to be with him. I want to be his girlfriend. I want to look after him just like he will look after me. It's a lot to understand without a conversation, I get that, but Peeta and I were never really platonic, were we?

Clove brings flowers. She clutches them so tight in her hands that her pale knuckles have gone bone white. The freckles on her hands stand out like a million spots on her skin. She's nervous. It's odd, I've never seen Clove nervous before. Usually she's the calm one. The one with the level head. The thought of confronting someone she has mistreated for years has gotten her riled up and anxious, worried about how Peeta will respond to her apology. I know how he will respond but when I try to convince Clove of his good nature she doesn't believe me. She doesn't think she's deserving of his forgiveness.

"You'll be fine," I insist as we reach Peeta's door. "He'll be grateful for you visiting him."

Clove shakes her head and shudders. "He's gonna hate me," she says.

"No, he won't," I reply. "Come on."

The first thing I find myself doing when I enter Peeta's room is instantly going to his bedside and kissing him. It takes him by surprise-like he hasn't accustomed himself to the idea that I want to be with him in this way-but that is only for a moment before he returns it. Honestly, if Clove weren't here, I could kiss him all day. His lips against mine ignite a fire I've never felt before.

Clove isn't alarmed by my affection towards Peeta. In fact, I see a ghost of smile. Like she expected it all along. I slide into the seat beside Peeta's bed and gesture to my best friend. "Clove wanted to visit you," I say. "She was worried about you."

"I brought lilies," Clove says, stepping forward and practically thrusting her bouquet up Peeta's nose. "I wasn't really sure what's a 'get well soon' sort of flower so I just bought what I thought looked the nicest."

"You didn't have to get anything, Clove, really," Peeta smiles, accepting the bouquet from her. "Thank you, they're lovely."

Clove blinks. She obviously expected yelling. For Peeta to scream at her about how inconsiderate it was for her to burst into his room and act like she wasn't an asshole to him. I did tell her that that wasn't going to happen but I suppose it had to happen before her eyes for her to fully understand.

"Clove also has something else to say to you," I explain, touching Peeta's hand and intertwining our fingers. I smile encouragingly at Clove, trying to ease her anxiety about this whole ordeal.

"I'm . . . sorry, I've been wrong to treat you the way I have all these years," Clove says, stumbling over her words like a drunk giraffe. "If I'd known you'd taken to heart so badly I would never have done it. I know that's not a good excuse because I clearly didn't think you'd laugh it off or think it was a joke but I didn't mean for you to get ill because of it." I'm startled by how distressed she becomes, just from admitting all this to him. Tears are glistening in her eyes and she presses the heels of her hands against them to ward it off. "I'm not a horrible person, I'm really not!"

Peeta's eyebrows are scrunched up with concern. "It's okay, Clove. I understand"-

"It's not okay though!" Clove interrupts. "How can this be okay?!" She gestures around her, at the hospital room and Peeta's bed. "Nothing about this is okay in the slightest! I am an awful person for doing this to you, Peeta. We all are! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Clove," Peeta says imploringly. His voice is so gentle that Clove's hands slide away from her eyes, curious as to what he's going to say. "You're forgiven."

Hearing those words make Clove explode. She starts to sob on the spot. I heave myself quickly off my seat and gather her into my arms. "Hey, it's alright," I say soothingly. "Didn't I tell you he'd forgive you?"

Clove winds her arms around me and squeezes tight. Relief washes over her like a wave and the crying slowly fades away. When I feel confident enough to sit back down, she turns to Peeta and says, "You, my friend, are too good for that school." She wipes her eyes and curses. "Goddamnit, I told myself I wouldn't get worked up."

"It's alright to cry, Clove," says Peeta

"Yeah but it ruins my image," she mutters.

"Still terrifying to me," Peeta grins.

Clove grins back. She straightens up and says firmly, "I'm going to look after your friends. While you're in here. Protect them from the douchebag crew and their leader Lady Muck. If they are even half of what you are then they deserve the protection. I may have had a hand in causing this but I won't allow it to happen to anyone else."

"I'll help too," I add. "I don't know, I'll beat Gale with my crutches."

"There's an image," Clove snorts. Her brown eyes bounce between myself and Peeta and our hands which are still joined together. "So are you two . . .?"

I glance at Peeta and he looks at me. "We haven't really talked about it," Peeta admits.

"We kissed but that was as far as we've went," I add.

Clove smiles knowingly and says, "Want an opinion from an objective third party with no interest in the matter whatsoever?"

I'm curious as to what she is going to say and I nod.

"I think you both would be an example to the school," Clove explains. "Show them that the food chain is bullshit. We can't be the only ones who despise it. If they see you two together, who knows who else will come out of the cracks?"

I think of Finnick and Annie who feel the need to hide from the prying eyes of the students of District High. Finnick, who relies so heavily on his popularity and can't risk allowing love to ruin that for him, could actually have a shot at expressing his true feelings. And putting the rest of the school aside, I like Peeta. I genuinely do. He's kind; caring; loving; sweet and-admittedly-hot as hell. How could I ever have hated him? How could I ever have looked upon him and felt disgust? I'll never understand.

My fingers clutch Peeta's tightly and we look at each other again. Oh those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. How could I ever have loathed them?

"What do you think?" Peeta asks quietly.

I brush my hair out of my face and say, "Peeta, do you want to be my homecoming date?"

Peeta's smile is so big and bright and full of happiness that I can't help laughing. "I would be honoured to," he replies.

I lean forward and hug him tight. I hear Clove laughing as well, the sound so full of glee my smile widens so much that the corners of my mouth ache. Peeta kisses the top of my head and I giggle.

Peeta Mellark is my boyfriend.

~xXx~

The next day at school, news comes in that Gale dumped Glimmer over the weekend. I'm not surprised when I hear this. It was inevitable. Gale munches through girls like a chipmunk through wood. He can't commit. Sort of. From a certain angle, the way Gale dumps a girl at the drop of a hat to return to Madge could be viewed as a form of loyalty. Mixed up loyalty but loyalty all the same.

At lunchtime, Clove and I sit with Johanna, Annie and Finch. Every time someone so much as looks at them wrong Clove shoots a look that clearly expresses, "Don't you fucking dare!" Annie and I play noughts and crosses on Finch's napkin while Johanna, Clove and Finch talk about upcoming exams and the homecoming dance.

"Little tip, Katniss," Finch says, "Peeta adores the colour orange."

"You should definitely get an orange dress!" Annie adds.

In the beginning, I had wanted to wear this short pink velvet dress that had a shiny black belt around the middle to homecoming. Except that had been when I was planning to go with Gale. Now that I am Peeta's date, I'm open to anything. And an orange dress sounds nice. Simple but unusual.

"There's a lovely orange dress in Mrs Tyler's window," Annie explains. She triumphantly draws a line through her path of X's, revealing a winning position I hadn't even noticed. "It would suit you beautifully. Especially with your skin tone, you'd look like you're on fire!"

"Mrs Tyler . . . isn't that Bonnie's mum?" asks Johanna.

"Yeah, have you never passed her store? She sews unique dresses but never makes copies so that each and every one of her customers has a different dress," Annie says.

"That sounds great, Annie," I say. "But I don't even know if Peeta will be allowed out of the hospital to even go yet."

Annie's posture weakens a little. "Yeah, I know."

"Keep the faith, at least," says Clove. "There's still hope."

A couple of the guys from the football team pass us. Gale, Cato and Finnick. They stop in front of our table. Well, Finnick doesn't realize they're stopping until Cato grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him back. Gale places his hands on the table and looms over us intimately. "Lookie here, Katniss Everdeen sitting at Loser's End. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Go suck a dick, Gale," Clove spits back.

"You too, Clove. I'm very disappointed," Gale says.

"And you know how my life's worth completely relies on your approval of me," I say sarcastically. My eyes flick to Cato and Finnick. Cato looks about ready to jump in if the need for it arises but Finnick actually hangs back, shuffling from foot to foot and staring at the floor.

"What happened, Katniss? You used to be so popular," Gale asks. "How did you fall so far so fast?"

"When you figure out how much of an asshole you've been acting, you tend to fall from grace," I answer. "Too bad you'll never realize how much of a bitch you are to Principal Snow and the system. Rather sad, really."

"You know what's sad? Your obsession with me," Gale says, standing up straight again and rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows you've been jealous of my relationship with Glimmer. You've been practically humping my leg ever since we started going out. I'm surprised you haven't made a move since we broke up. Unless you didn't know and are going to jump my bones now." He steps back, feigning fear.

I roll my eyes, exasperated with both Gale and myself. How did I ever like this douchebag? "You're not seriously going to stand there and pretend that you didn't just dump Glimmer because Madge is back in town?" I ask flatly.

Gale laughs. "As if! Madge came to me. She always comes to me. The ladies always do."

"You're just too afraid to admit that you're Madge's bitch," Clove declares.

Gale scowls. "If anything, she is my bitch!" he shouts back.

Johanna's eyes flash dangerously and suddenly Gale is covered in orange juice. Johanna clutches her empty up angrily and shouts, "Get out of my sight you prick munching bag of piss before I really lose my temper!" Finch gently grips Johanna's arm, trying to pull her back down to sit before she does something stupid.

"Have a go if you think you're hard enough!" Gale yells back.

Johanna wrenches her arm out of Finch's hold and has just slapped one foot up onto the canteen table when Madge appears. The entire cafeteria had fallen silent at the possibility for a brawl and Madge wedges her way through the spectators easily. Her blue eyes are watery and she tries to simply push past Gale but he doesn't let her.

"Hey, baby," he says, grabbing her arm and pulling her against him, "how are you?"

Madge pushes herself away, face scrunched up with rage. "Don't you 'baby' me!" she screams at him. If the cafeteria wasn't silent before, it definitely was now. Gale is so taken aback by her outrage that he lets go of her and steps back. "How fucking dare you talk about me like that! I'm sick of you treating me like shit, Gale Hawthorne, when I know I deserve more! My parents are dying of cancer and all you can do when I go away is fuck other girls? Really? You're a sick, sick son of a bitch Gale and I never want to see you again!"

With that she pushes Gale into Cato and marches out of the room, kicking a stool over angrily along the way. The silence that follows is almost deafening. Everyone gapes at Gale, who's flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. He turns to me and smirks, "Looks like I'm free for the dance."

I'm so fucked off by him in this moment that I chuck my entire tray of lunch at him. "Go fuck yourself," I hiss at him.

"Looks like someone is taking a leaf out of Mellark's books and has decided to skip lunch," Cato says, rolling his eyes like the whole situation is boring him.

My eyes fall on Cato and it's like in that instant, in those ten seconds it took for Cato to utter those words, I'm given a shot of adrenalin. I launch myself across our table and rake my nails down Cato's face. He stumbles backwards in shock as I clamour onto his back, cast unbalancing me but not by much, and pull at his hair like my life depends on it.

"Don't you fucking dare talk about Peeta again!" I roar at him.

"Someone get this psychotic bitch off me!" Cato yells, shaking himself wildly from side to side to get me off.

Gale grabs me and pulls me off of Cato. I know it's him because his arms are covered in tuna mayo. I lash out and scream until he throws me down against the table. Clove is over the table in an instant to help me up. My leg aches horribly but I know it will be fine. As soon as Cato glares at me, wiping the blood from a cut above his brow, I spit in his face.

"If you talk about my boyfriend like that again, I will put you in a cast just like mine," I hiss.

And I mean it.

Nobody will ever insult Peeta's insecurities again. Not while I live and breathe.

I'm called to Principal Snow's office not long after I attacked Cato. There was really only time for the girls and myself to leave the cafeteria and find Madge before Snow's secretary came looking for me. I saw it coming. It wouldn't have taken long for word to have reached Snow. I'm not an idiot. However, if he thinks that I'm going to cooperate with him then he's fooling himself. Whatever he has to say, I don't want to hear it.

I sit in front of Snow with my bad leg propped up on a small green stool. I've fucked it again, I can feel it. At my next appointment the doctor will tell me that I've wrecked my leg and I'll never walk again. Okay, maybe I'm being overdramatic, but right now it hurts like a bitch. I fold my arms and stare at Snow defiantly.

"Katniss," Snow sighs, "how far you have fallen."

I don't answer.

"Are you going to tell me what happened between Cato and yourself or do I have to force it from you?"

I quirk my eyebrow at Snow, daring him to try. Typical of him to only include Cato because he was directly involved in the dispute. Snow left out Gale-even though he basically ignited the whole situation-just to protect his stupid football team and their winning streak. All of this just in the name of making sure the school looked good.

"Don't be difficult, Katniss," scolds Snow, "just tell me what happened."

"Cato made an inappropriate comment about Peeta's illness," I say. "What did you expect me to do?"

"Nobody knows about Peeta's condition," Snow says patiently. "They only know that he went into cardiac arrest. No student besides yourself know the true extent of his illness. Don't lie to me, Katniss, I don't appreciate it."

"There's many things I don't appreciate," I throw back. "Like your complete support of the food chain idea that has smashed this school to pieces. Or the fact that you value the football team over everyone else. Or that you second handedly supported those who bullied Peeta and his friends. Doesn't mean you're not going to change, does it?"

Snow stares at me, not at all happy with what I have said. I glare back at him, deciding that if it was the wrong decision then I'm going to go through with it. Snow lifts his pen and pulls a slip out of a top drawer in his chest. He writes something down and hands the slip to me. I look at the piece of paper with a frown.

"What's that?"

"Katniss, you are hereby suspended from this school for the next fortnight. If you set foot on the premises before this time is up then you will be expelled. Do you understand this?" Snow says slowly and deliberately.

I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. His snake like eyes show no sign of a lie. "What?!" I explode. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm deadly serious. Your blatant disrespect for your fellow classmates is a disgrace that I can't ignore any longer," says Snow. He grabs my hand and slaps the slip into it. "Now get out of my office and immediately leave the school grounds."

"What about homecoming?" I ask.

A flicker of a smile crosses Snow's face. "What about homecoming?" he replies.

"I can still go, right?"

"Where does homecoming take place?"

"In the school."

"Well then what do you think?"

It's so surreal I almost don't believe him. I'm still waiting for the joke. He's bound to be kidding! He just can't tell me I can't go to homecoming! What about Gale and Cato and Glimmer?! Where's their comeuppance? Why am I being the one punished when I was the one being provoked?! I clench my hands into fists and stumble to my feet. You know what? This is probably for the better. If the school is corrupt, what would make their homecoming dance any different?

"I wouldn't want to ruin your shitty dance with my presence anyway," I snap.

I can feel Snow's grin boring into the back of my head as I leave. Something tells me he isn't going to grieve my absence.

~xXx~

"Katniss, what's wrong?"

The way Peeta just has to look at me to know that there's something wrong with me is so incredibly sweet I wish I was in the mood to feel happy about it. Instead, as soon as Peeta's eyes reach my face and his face falls with concern, I cover my eyes so he doesn't see the tears well up in them. When I told my mum about the suspension, I could see that she was disappointed in me. She insisted that she wasn't but she's a better doctor than she is a liar. There would have been a time where I wouldn't care about what my mum had thought about me but now it's different. I don't want her to be disappointed me. I want her to be proud.

It's this, more than anything, that upsets me.

"I'm sorry," I say, hating how my voice wavers. "I've messed up."

"Katniss, what's happened?" Peeta asks with worry in his voice. I limp over to his bed and sit down in my usual place. Peeta takes my hands in his. His grip isn't strong but the feeling of his frail hands over mine puts me at ease. "What is it? Tell me."

"I've been suspended," I whisper.

Peeta touches my face and brushes a tear away. "What happened?" he says gently.

"I attacked Cato," I murmur shamefully.

"Oh Katniss, why did you do that?" asks Peeta. He's edged closer to me and pulled me close, so my head rests against his shoulder. His bones dig into my cheek but I don't care. I press myself closer and try to hide my ashamed face.

"He made fun of you," I explain. "I know you would want me to ignore him, I do. And I've tried but Gale was goading me and I really wasn't in the mood."

"How did you attack him? Katniss, you have a broken leg," Peeta frowns.

"He was standing pretty close and I launched myself at him," I answer.

Peeta sighs and I hear his breath rattling in his chest. He strokes my hair absentmindedly. I'm surprised by how comforting this feels and I close my eyes to try to focus on that instead of the mess in which my life has become. "You have to try to ignore them. I know it's hard but it's the way life has to be sometimes," Peeta says gently.

"I'm not like you," I reply. "I don't have tons of patience."

"When you're back in school, try to ignore them. Don't even speak to them when they try to push you," Peeta tells me. "They'll lose interest, I promise."

"You don't get it Peeta," I say, pulling back to look at him. "It's fine when they're jibing at me, I can take that. I can't do it when it's you they're making fun of. It's not fair, especially when you're not there to defend yourself."

Peeta pushes my hair back from my eyes and says, "Don't worry about me, Katniss. You won't be doing me any favours by risking your education just to defend me. It's alright. I've been dealing with this for a very long time now. I can deal with it for a couple of months longer."

I shake my head. "It's not fair," I conclude.

"Katniss, you've improved my life hugely just by changing your ways and letting me in," Peeta says. "I can't ask for any more than that from you. Please. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got expelled just because Cato makes an offhand comment."

"How did he know?" I press. "Cato shouldn't know about your anorexia."

Peeta chews on his bottom lip. "Cato knows because he hit on me once," he explains. "At Snow Mansion. I was babysitting Delly again and he must have been drunk. And drunk Cato isn't really a good Cato to be around. I knew he wasn't genuine-I mean, come on-did he really think I was going to let him say yes when he wasn't offering a relationship, just a quick fuck?"

"You told me you didn't have anything to do with Cato," I say.

"Well, yeah, when I hardly knew you," Peeta explains. "Anyway, it wasn't anything big. I just said no because Cato said that if I said yes I wasn't allowed to tell anyone and anyway he was behaving like a bit of a douche."

"So how did he find out about your anorexia?"

"He . . . was a bit forceful." Peeta was chewing his lip so badly that blood was beginning appear and slid down his chin. I wipe it away with my thumb and order him to stop before he hurts himself. "It doesn't matter. I told him in school that if he told anyone that I wasn't eating then I'd tell everyone that he propositioned me."

God, Cato is so full of himself. Even when he's drunk he thinks everyone will fall to his feet.

"It wasn't a good night on a whole anyway because it was the same night I found out that Thom was cheating on me with Delly," Peeta sighs.

I suddenly remember what Glimmer had said about Delly and Peeta's friendship. She said it ended after what happened at Snow Mansion. Snow's nephew threw a party at the mansion when Snow himself was out of town. It was apparently legendary. It is still referred to as the most banging party in District High history. I wasn't there. Prim had a piano recital and no matter how much of a bitch I had become when dad died, Prim always came first.

So that was what Glimmer meant. Peeta had been dumped by Thom at that party because he was cheating on him with Delly anyway.

"I'll never do that to you," I say. "Thom's an idiot."

"It doesn't matter, honestly. It was years ago," says Peeta. "I've been talking to the therapist and he thinks that the party at Snow's mansion may be the root of my . . . harming issue."

The thought makes me scowl. I straighten up and say, "If it is then I'll find Thom and personally beat him with my crutches."

Peeta laughs. "That's not necessary, really."

Seeing his smile makes guilt flood me as I remember what else I have to say to him. "Peeta," I say, threading our fingers together, "there's something else." Immediately, I feel him tense. "No, it's not anything bad. Well, I suppose it could be viewed as bad. But it's not you, it's me. Not in that way! But . . . okay, I'm just going to come out with it."

Peeta watches me with worry. I want to smile to encourage him but I can't bring myself to do it.

"I have to miss homecoming. I'm not allowed on the premises at all," I blurt out.

Peeta's eyes soften. "Oh Katniss, I'm so sorry," he says. "I know how important homecoming was to you. Are you alright?"

I shrug miserably. "There's nothing I can do. Snow's word is final, you know? I should have seen it coming. I've been treading on thin ice with him for a while now." I pick at my cast with my spare hand, wishing that I hadn't had that stupid accident at all. "I was so stupid to think that Snow would ever treat us fairly! Who was I fooling? The whole school is just a joke! A big, fat stinking joke!"

Peeta tips my chin up with his knuckle, making me look him in the eyes. "I want to tell you something," he says.

I cock my head and frown. "What?"

"I was going to tell you as soon as you came in but you were upset and I got worried," Peeta explains.

Now it's my turn to be worried. What is he going to say? Is he going to break up with me? Is he going to tell me that he's only got six months to live? That he can never eat again? I clutch Peeta's hands tight, as if holding him as hard as I can will somehow lessen the bad news that is inevitable to come.

"The week after next, my doctor wants me to try to feed myself on my own. See how it goes in a regular, every day environment. Gauge if I can cope," says Peeta. He smiles in a way that displays all his teeth, so bright I'm almost blinded. "I'm going home."

I stare. I don't know what to say. "Are you better? Are you cured?" I finally find the ability to say.

"No," Peeta admits. "However, since I've been cooperating so well and eating what I'm given, they trust me to try to continue at home. Albeit, I have to follow a strict diet plan and if I divert from it even a little bit I'll be back in here faster than I can blink. My dad has spoken with my doctor and they've agreed that I'm strong enough to do this myself. I still have to visit my therapist twice a week but I can go back to school, too."

"Peeta, that's amazing!" All previous bereavements are forgotten and I fling myself at Peeta, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him. I feel his breath against my neck and I move our faces closer, my lips hovering just a bit above his so that our breaths mingle together in hot puffs. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

Peeta nods minutely, still a bit abashed about that sort of thing. I connect our lips and my heart flips with excitement. It's soft at first. Peck after peck that soon lingers longer. I've pulled myself up onto the edge of Peeta's bed so we're closer and I touch his face gently before trying to deepen it.

Except Peeta pulls away. I flush with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, was that too fast?" I quickly blurt out.

"No, I want to do this with you . . . trust me, I really do," Peeta replies just as quick as me. "I just . . . I've never done it. I don't know where to go from here."

"Sorry, I should have been more sensitive about that," I say, feeling ashamed. "I should be trying to make this easier for you than just jumping you all the time." I scratch my head shamefully. "I seem to be making a habit of that."

Peeta chuckles. "You do, don't you?" he says. His cheeks turn pink with his own embarrassment. "Honestly, it's my fault. I'm a teenage boy, I'm supposed to know how to do this sort of thing. I guess I've just been so caught up with the . . . the anorexia that I haven't had a chance to do that sort of thing." He frowns. "Maybe I should have just done it with Cato. At least I wouldn't be a kissing virgin then."

I shake my head firmly. "No," I say. "That's what I did. I jumped into bed with the first person who showed interest. And you know what? I regret it still to this day. Now that I'm with you-someone who I know actually cares about me-I wish I had just pushed Marvel away that night. I wish I'd pushed everyone away who I've ever slept with. Because honestly? I wish you were my first kiss just like I was yours."

"It doesn't have to be your first kiss," Peeta tells me. He looks sheepish and won't meet my eye as he says, "It could be the first kiss that matters, though."

I exhale and smile. "Of course." I peck his lips again and say, "We don't have to deepen anything until you feel you're ready. Besides, it'd be nice to take things a bit slower for once."

Peeta looks relieved that I haven't ran for the hills upon hearing how he's a fumbling virgin even when it comes to kissing. I kiss him softly one final time and let our foreheads press together. His eyelashes tickle my face and I giggle. "I'm really glad I have you, Katniss," Peeta whispers.

"The feeling is mutual," I whisper back.

We spend the rest of the visit just enjoying each other's company. It's nice this way. I've never done a relationship like this before but it's much better than jumping into bed with every guy I'm with. Besides, Peeta would never have done that. Sure, I'd like to think we'll get there some day but I'll have to prove myself worthy of doing such a thing with him. Peeta won't settle for cheap sex. The sort of quickies I've been having my entire life. He'll want to make love with someone he deeply cares about. Someone he loves.

And I'm more than willing to earn that love.


	16. Punching Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss has been sick for the past week and a half. After a disturbing suggestion from Prim, Katniss calls Marvel and discovers the true extent of her ex's idiocy.

A fresh wave of nausea washes over me and I throw myself at the toilet. My fingers dig into the porcelain bowl as I hack up my guts for the third time this morning. I don't have any food in my system so I'm basically choking up stomach acid. How Glimmer used to be able to do this on a regular basis is beyond my comprehension, just because she wanted to be thinner.

"Katniss, are you alright?" Prim's voice floats in from beyond the bathroom door.

"Yeah," I call back, stumbling to my feet and flushing the toilet. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and wash them before opening the door for Prim. "I think I'm coming down with something. The flu is going around, I think."

"Maybe you've caught something from the hospital," Prim suggests.

"You don't catch things from the hospital, Prim. Everything is sanitised," I say. "I use the soap they provide when I come in and when I leave. It's nothing. It's sickness." I weave around Prim as she enters the bathroom and throw myself onto the sofa in the living room. I've been at home for a week and half now and for at least a quarter of that time I've been sick. I keep trying to figure out where I could have caught the flu from but nothing comes to mind. It's probably just in the air or something.

"How's Peeta?" Prim asks as she returns from the bathroom.

"Good," I mumble into my pillow. I've seen Peeta every day, despite the fact that I feel like shit. I met his family, too. Well, most of his family. His mother wasn't there but it wasn't too big of a loss. His dad is really sweet. He brings Peeta tins of soup every time he visits because he knows that's all Peeta can eat right now. When Peeta goes home, his Doctor wants him to try to eat some vegetables and other solid foods. He can take it at his own pace, though. His brothers were cool, too. They're both goofballs but they obviously care about Peeta, which is what matters.

"You know that he wouldn't mind if you missed one day," says Prim. She crosses her legs on the armchair and balances a stripy glass of water on her knee.

"He knows I'm sick," I tell her. "But he needs me."

"I think you're better staying at home rather than barfing over him," Prim reasons. "Besides, if it is the flu, you might give it to him."

"It's weird, it doesn't feel like the flu," I say.

Prim is silent. She stares at the carpet with a frown. I wonder what she's thinking about . . .

"Katniss," she says quietly.

"What?"

"Are you pregnant?"

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Her words leave me winded. "What?!" I exclaim. "No!"

Prim drinks from her glass and shrugs. "It's just a theory," she says. "You said it doesn't feel like flu and you've been barfing every morning for a week and a half." Her blue eyes widen. "Oooh, is it Peeta's?"

"I'm not pregnant, Prim!" I snap at her. I grumpily turn around on the sofa and snuggle into the cushions. My stomach is churning still but I'll just sleep it off. Usually once the morning has passed the sickness wears off. I'm not pregnant. I haven't had sex in a month and a half. Marvel put a condom on, I watched him do it. The idea of getting pregnant by such a sleeve makes the sickness worse and I push the thought away.

"You know what they say," says Prim, "there's no 100% form of contraception besides not having sex at all."

I scowl into the cushions. "What the hell, Prim? Where are you learning this?" I demand to know.

"Religion class," Prim replies.

"Don't worry about me," I tell her. "My sex life is my business. I'm not an idiot, I've always taken all the necessary precautions." I frown. "Not that I've needed to. Make sure you love the person you first make love to, Prim."

Prim rolls her eyes and sets down her glass. "I know, Katniss. I'm not going to throw myself at anyone. Trust me, I don't intend to do anything like that anytime soon. Looking at you and the way things have been going for you I can't say that I'm all that keen to do it at all, really."

I turn back around and glare at her. "What do you mean 'the ways things have been going for me'?!"

"I'm sorry Katniss but it hasn't exactly been smooth sailing for you," she says. "You used to bring boys around here all the time! You don't honestly believe that I don't know you regret it because now you've met someone you really care about?"

"You're too observant, Prim," I say dryly.

Prim shrugs. "You used to keep me up at night, Katniss. It's not like I was trying to be nosey. It was every night mum was on the night shift. Every night. You brought some guy home and you'd be up most of the night giggling and kissing. I used to think you didn't respect me enough as a person to know that I didn't want you messing around with boys when I was home."

I sit up. "I never had sex with anyone when you were at home, Prim," I try to assure her.

"You cared more about using the time mum was gone to be with all those boys instead of spending time with me," Prim mutters. She looks at me with glittery eyes. "Especially when dad died. I needed you then, you know."

I feel ashamed of myself. Of course Prim needed me. What made me think she didn't? I was always too caught up in myself and how I felt that I thought Prim sailed through dad's death easily. Just because she didn't fall like me didn't mean that she didn't need support.

"I'm sorry," I say. "When dad died I went to a dark place. I turned into a lousy person. I'm different now though! If you think there's still a chance for us to revive what we missed out on then we try to spend more time together?"

I want Prim to believe me however instead of immediately taking my word for it-expressed through a smile maybe-she simply nods. "I'd rather wait to see if you're honest about that before getting my hopes up about it," she tells me.

"I understand," I reply. God, I can't believe I have to have a conversation like this with my own sister. I had always just thought that Prim was okay with the sort of person I was. I had never been directly bitchy to her. Nor had I ever planned to be. Yet now whenever I look into her eyes I know that she was never okay with it. She just wanted a big sister to look after her when she lost her dad. That isn't a lot to ask for. I couldn't even give her that.

"Maybe you should give the last guy you did it with a call," says Prim, all previous admissions forgotten. "Just to ensure that he . . . you know."

"But he did," I insist. "I'm not pregnant. If I was, wouldn't I have been throwing up ages ago?" I laugh it off, knowing that the impossibility of it was so fierce for me. I wouldn't be pregnant. I never had sex with people that often. Prim stares at me with the same serious, medical face mum uses when she's in doctor mode. "Would it get you to calm down if I did?"

Prim nods. "I just want to be sure. For your sake, not mine. If you were pregnant, mum would skin you alive."

I roll my eyes. "Tell me about it." I was raised to never make stupid decisions like having unsafe sex. That's why every partner I've ever been with has put a condom on and I've been on the pill since I turned sixteen. Except I had to stop taking those when I had to take my antidepressants. However, I've only had sex once since I was prescribed those and that was with Marvel at Cashmere's party. He wants a baby as much as I do and I know for a fact that he put a condom on.

To keep Prim happy I lean forward and grab my mobile off the coffee table. It feels wrong dialling Marvel's number. I know he's going to misinterpret my calling him. He's going to think I want to ask him out or something. Again. Well, too bad for him. I'll never go out with a sleazy jerk like him ever again. Especially not after what he did to Peeta on Cashmere's front lawn.

"Hey baby," is the immediate response I get once Marvel answers, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Marvel," I say flatly, "you wore a condom when we had sex at Cashmere's party, right?"

"Of course," Marvel says, all previous sleaziness forgotten at the spontaneity of such a question. "Why?"

"I'm just trying to prove a point," I reply. "You definitely put a condom on and the sex we had was safe, right?"

"Right," Marvel answers. "I even pre-poked the holes at the end of it myself."

My blood turns cold. "What holes?" I ask slowly.

"Y'know, the ones you pierce through the condom to make sure I get as much pleasure as I can."

"You don't poke holes in condoms!" I shout hysterically down the line. "Who the fuck told you that?!" Prim straightens up in her seat, her eyes widen in horror. "What sort of fucked up sex education class did you get?!"

"I didn't get sex education, Snow cut the class," says Marvel. "It doesn't matter because you're on the pill anyway, aren't you?"

"NO!" I roar at him. "I couldn't take it once I was put on antidepressants!"

There's silence on the other end.

"MARVEL!" I scream. "Say something!"

"It doesn't matter!" Marvel says quickly. "You're not pregnant anyway! No harm, no foul, right?" I drop my phone onto the floor. "Katniss? Right? Answer me! Katniss!" I take one last panicked look at Prim before my churning stomach has had enough and forces me to throw up all over the living room carpet.

~xXx~

I sit on a bench in front of my house, staring at the ground beneath my feet. It's cool outside and feels nice against my inflamed cheeks. Marvel is a dickhead. I can't believe he honestly thought that he could poke holes into his condoms without any consequences. My stomach is still churning, more from nerves now than nausea. Prim helped me clean up the living room and promised not to tell mum.

That's my job.

Mum pulls up in front of the house at 6:00pm, like she does every day. I appreciate her taking me to visit Peeta even when she just got back from her day shift. Maybe she knows that Peeta needs the support. Or maybe she's just glad I'm doing something productive instead of going out getting drunk and chasing boys.

I get into the car and throw my crutches into the back. "How's your day been, sweetie?" Mum asks as she pulls out again.

"I was sick again," I say, the mere thought of it making my stomach gurgle unhappily.

"Again? Maybe I should take you to your GP," Mum muses. "If it's an infection you can get some antibiotics or something. I'll give them a call when we get back"-

"Mum," I interrupt.

"Yeah?"

I take a shaky breath. "Can we stop by the pharmacy?" I ask her.

"Sure. Why? What is it?" asks Mum.

Tears well up in my eyes and I look away from her, out the window to where the landscape is whizzing by in a dizzying blur. "Marvel poked holes into his condoms and didn't tell me," I tell the window. "I need to get a pregnancy test." Saying those words out loud causing fear to seize my being. I start to sob, my head falling into my lap as the realization crashes on top of me that there's a possibility I could be pregnant.

"Katniss," Mum says sternly. I try to calm down to hear what she has to say. I need to know if she's disappointed in me or not. I swallow my sobs and force my head up. I can't really see her through my watery eyes but I can make out her blond hair. "It's not your fault."

"Aren't you disappointed in me?" I cry. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, desperately trying to stop the tears from slipping out.

Mum sighs and pulls a handkerchief out of her jacket. She hands it to me and tells me to clean myself up. "Katniss, I've known you've been having sex for ages now. You aren't subtle. Besides, Marvel Winters' mother came into the surgery when you guys were sophomores and told me about how you broke the bed in her spare room when she and her husband were away for the weekend. I don't care that you're not celibate, Katniss. Asking a teenager not to have sex isn't very realistic. All I've ever wanted of you is to do it safely. Take the precautions I raised you to take.

"Marvel tricked you. From the sounds of it anyway. Punching holes in his condoms is a very low move and if you are pregnant as a result of it . . ." Mum clutches the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turn white . . . "I'm going to kick that son of a bitch's ass."

Hearing my mum swear is so rare I just stare at her in horror and awe.

"It's my responsibility to act as your father and mother in this situation," Mum explains. "Which means that I can get to be comforting while simultaneously hunting down Marvel to shoot him with a crossbow."

"He thought it was better for him to do it," I tell her. "Because Principal Snow cut sex education class."

Mum tuts. "I never supported that man," she says. "He was in school at the same time as my mother and apparently he was just as much of a jerk then as he is now."

I push my hair back from my face and press it between my knees. "What am I going to do if I am pregnant, mum? I don't want a baby."

"There's always adoption or foster care. It's not the desired option but if you don't want to keep this baby then there's no use in keeping it. Besides, you mightn't be pregnant anyway."

All I can do is hope that mum is right.

We drop by the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test. I tell mum that I want to explain things to Peeta before I take the test because as my boyfriend he has a right to know what's going on. She agrees and we drive to the hospital. I worry about facing Peeta. About what he's going to say when I tell him that I might be pregnant with another man's baby. Will he still want to be with me? Or will he hate my guts and never want to see me again?

Peeta's sixth sense picks up on my misery instantly anyways. It seems that whenever I come in here, all I do is bear bad news. "Katniss, is everything okay?" he asks.

"No," I reply. I don't even sit. I'm prepared to leave as soon as I tell him because the likelihood is that he'll want me to go once he knows.

"What's in the bag?"

I want to cry at how nonplussed he is. He's made so much progress. His bones aren't as prominent anymore and there's no wires coming out of his body at all. This is the sort of thing expected of the old me. Getting pregnant with one night stands. I wanted to change for him, I wanted to become a better person for him. Now I've basically thrown all that away.

"A pregnancy test," I tell him.

Peeta stares at me, his expression unmoving. "Why?" he asks.

"My sickness . . . how I've been throwing up so much . . . there's a possibility I may be pregnant."

Peeta swallows before saying anything. I watch the movement of his Adam's apple as it bobs nervously in his throat. It's better than looking him in the eye. He knows we haven't had sex. He knows it isn't his. So why hasn't he blew up in blind rage yet? "Who?" he simply asks.

"Marvel Winters." My voice cracks from just saying his name. "Remember Cashmere's party? He punched holes in his condoms and didn't tell me."

Peeta's eyes widen in mortification. "He did what?!" he blows up. I wince and squeeze my eyes shut, expecting to be called every word under the sun. "Marvel actually had the gall to do that to you? Isn't that sort of thing illegal?! I can't believe this!" Peeta gets up out of bed and limps over to me. I'm shocked when he wraps his arms around me and squeezes tight. "It's not your fault," he tells me.

"I should have been on the pill!" I cry.

"You couldn't have been on the pill! Not with the medication you're taking!" Peeta scolds.

"I shouldn't have thrown myself around like a cheap harlet then!" I insist. I don't mention that I only had sex with Marvel that night to protect Peeta from being hurt. Besides, it didn't work out that way anyway since Marvel went after him right afterwards. "I should have known better!"

"Have you taken the test?" Peeta asks me.

I shake my head into his chest.

"Okay, go into the bathroom and take it. I'll be right here okay?"

I nod miserably and go to Peeta's bathroom. I don't know whether I'm pleased or annoyed by Peeta's reaction. He should be mad at me as well. It takes two to tango. I mean, Marvel didn't rape me or anything. I let him have sex with me! So why isn't Peeta mad with me as well? I pee on the stick and bring it back out into Peeta's room.

"We have to wait three minutes," I tell him.

Peeta nods. He throws the covers back from his bed and nods for me to get in beside him. I leave the test on the bedside table and crawl in with him. He throws the covers over us and holds me against him. When I place my hands on his sides, I still feel bones, but not as prominently as I had done before. I actually feel the tell-tale sign of muscle beginning to form again.

"I don't deserve you," I whisper into his chest.

"Katniss, this isn't your fault," Peeta tells me. He absentmindedly plays with my braid, his chin pressed comfortably against the top of my head. "You didn't lie to me or cheat on me. I knew you had sex with Marvel at Cashmere's party. I still said yes to being your boyfriend. This is entirely Marvel's fault. Even if he believed that punching the holes would benefit him-I remember Gale used to spread bullshit like that all the time-he still should have told you that he'd done it."

"I don't want to be pregnant," I say.

"I know," Peeta says gently, rubbing my back comfortingly. I lean further into him, wishing there was a way to be as close as I possibly can to him without having to actually be naked or anything. "But if you are I'm still going to be here. I'll help with the child if that's what you want or support your through the adoption process if you want to put it up."

How firm and sure of himself he is makes me want to cry all over again. He tips my chin up with his knuckle and kisses me. It's so soft and gentle I don't ever want it to end. He touches my face and I touch his, my hand pushing back from his cheek and into his hair. We're locked in this embrace for a long time, kissing each other like the rest of the world doesn't exist and it's only us right here right now.

When I break off for air, my heart skips a beat. "It's been three minutes."

Peeta kisses me again. "I know," he whispers.

I turn around and pick up the test.

~xXx~

Ever since I found out that I'm pregnant, it's all I've been able to think about. I'm constantly looking in the mirror, staring intensely at my stomach as if my eyes will suddenly turn into X-ray goggles and I'll be able to see through into the child inside me. When I saw the red plus on the test, I sobbed in Peeta's arms for an hour and a half. It's been a day since then. I haven't called Marvel yet. I don't know if I want him to know. It's his fucking fault that this has happened.

Eventually, I know I'll have to. Whether I like it or not, Marvel is the father. He won't be able to stop me from giving the baby up for adoption when they're born but he has a right to know. Besides, the bastard could use having the living shit scared out of him. He's ruined my life and I want him to know that.

It's the day before homecoming and I feel like complete shit. I've been wandering around the house like a zombie, not able to comprehend what this will mean for the next eight months of my life. I've stayed in the same pyjamas the entire time. Mum has instructed Prim to let me have my space because I could easily lose my cool at any moment. A part of me is actually tempted to call Marvel just to get him to come to the house so I can take my anger out on him.

There's a knock on the door. I groan because I'm the only one in the house. I hobble over and answer, ready to send whoever it is away. I've got a pizza in the oven and I'd prefer to eat it alone and wallow in my own self pity.

Peeta stands on my doorstep.

My heart lifts and my mouth falls open. "What are you doing here?" I ask in a mixture of surprise and shock.

"They let me out early," Peeta says.

"And you came straight to me?" I ask, overwhelmed but genuinely touched.

Peeta smiles. "Of course I did. You're the first person I wanted to know I was out. Besides, you could use some cheering up after the past few days you've had."

Just seeing Peeta outside of the hospital lifts my mood impeccably. I throw myself at him, accidentally causing him to stumble backwards into the doorframe. I hold him tight, as if this is just a dream and when I wake up he'll be back at hospital after turning down help from the doctors and I'll still be pregnant but completely alone.

I let him in because it's raining and take his jacket to put on the radiator to dry. The fact that Peeta lets me take it from him without complaint shows the huge leaps in progress he has made with his doctors. Sure, I can see his ribs faintly underneath his shirt but I don't care and neither does he.

"What about your family? Don't you want them to know?" I ask, taking the lead into the living room.

"I told my dad that I wanted to see you and he was fine with it," Peeta explains.

"Does he know about . . . ?" I look down at my stomach.

Peeta shakes his head. "No. I wouldn't tell him without you expressing that you want me to. Marvel doesn't even know and he's the father so I don't have the right to say anything at all." He steps forward, still lumbered with a small limp from his once broken ribs, and lays his hand over my stomach. It's odd, how comforted I am by the gentle touch. It makes warmth seep into my blood and I grip his wrist desperately, wanting him to forever anchor me through this.

"I'm going to be a laughing stock at school," I say miserably.

"Dating me was going to make you a bit of a laughing stock anyway. They'd think you're mad," says Peeta with a wry smile.

I roll my eyes. "Don't talk like that. If they try to poke fun I'd show them where to shove it"-Peeta raises his eyebrows at me and I swallow hard-"by peacefully ignoring their jibes." Peeta grins and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin. I touch his hands which now frame my face and kiss his palms.

"Everything will be alright," Peeta tells me. "We'll get through this together."

"Do you think I can sue Marvel for tricking me?" I ask.

"I don't know if there would be much of a case in that," Peeta admits. "But it should be illegal, in my opinion."

I suddenly realize-with a great deal of embarrassment-that I am in my pyjamas. I cross my arms over my chest even though Peeta's eyes haven't travelled anywhere near my bra-less breasts because he's a gentleman. However, I'm extremely aware of the fact that my breasts are only covered by the thin material of my sleep shirt, nipples clearly visible.

Peeta keeps talking, not having noticed at all. I don't expect him to because that sort of thing probably flies right over his head but I'm still hyper aware of it now. "On my way out of the hospital, I saw these by the reception desk." Peeta pulls a bunch of pamphlets out from his back pocket and shows them to me.

Dealing with teenage pregnancy.

How to cope with underage baby carrying.

So I hear you got pregnant.

Hey, there's a baby in there!

"This one," Peeta says, pulling the last one out of the pile, "has adoption or foster care options at the back, see." He opens it open and shows me all the options I have for giving away the baby. "Unless you've decided you want to keep it?"

I shake my head. "No. I can't," I tell him. "It's not fair. Besides, can you really see me as a mother? I'm struggling to care for myself here!" I gesture to my broken leg with a flourish.

"There's still a possibility it's a hoax," Peeta helpfully says. "Sometimes the test flukes. Or you could be having a hysterical pregnancy. That's where your body shows symptoms of pregnancy, therefore fooling the test. Although that most likely only happens with women who want kids so desperately that their body changes to accommodate it."

I snort. "Yeah because that's likely."

Peeta smiles sympathetically. "Have you told Marvel yet?"

"No," I sigh reluctantly. "I know I'm going to have to but . . ."

"You want to put it off. I understand."

God, how did Peeta come to be so understanding? I don't get it. If I had been dating someone-let's say Gale or Marvel or Finnick-and they came to me saying that they got a girl pregnant, I'd hit the roof. I can easily see myself not giving them any time to explain and just throwing them out. When I told Peeta he stayed calm. He asked me questions about it before jumping to the conclusion that I'd cheated on him.

"If you want, I'll come with you when you tell him," says Peeta. "For moral support?"

"Aren't you worried he'll punch you?" I ask meekly.

Peeta laughs. "I probably should be. However I've grown accustomed to being hit. Eventually it just becomes boring."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Seriously?"

Peeta pulls a face. "Okay, not really. It still hurts like a bitch but you get my point."

The timer goes off in the kitchen. I glance over my shoulder forlornly. Even though Peeta has made improvement-so much so that he can be trusted to eat outside of the hospital-I still feel awful getting food in front of him. When I glance back, his eyebrows are raised. "Do you want me to get that for you?" he asks, his eyes dropping to my leg before bouncing back up to my eyes.

I shake my head. "No, thanks, I got this." I heave myself off the sofa and gesture for him to follow me. "Besides, I have get more exercise. My injury has caused me to become lazy. I don't want my cast to come off and for my stamina to hit the floor."

"After four years of cheerleading? I doubt it," Peeta replies.

"You'd be surprised how fast it can leave you," I say. "Especially since I'm carrying for two . . ." I shudder at the idea. "My body is going to get wrecked."

Peeta sits down at the islet while I yank my pizza out of the oven. I stare at it on the counter with a frown before throwing open one of the cupboards. "We have tomato soup in here," I tell him. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, Nurse Paylor wanted to be absolutely positive that I could go so I finished a bowl before packing to leave," Peeta explains. "Thanks, though."

I bring the pizza to the islet and sit across from him. "Well, feel free to pick at this if the notion takes you," I tell him. "I haven't eaten since yesterday but I still feel nauseated."

"As nauseated as you may feel, you still have to eat," Peeta gently reminds me. "Especially if you . . . Okay, no, let's not get into that conversation yet."

I smile and pick a green bean out of the cheese. "Are you going to homecoming tomorrow?" I ask.

"No, there's no point," Peeta replies. "I'm not officially due out of hospital until next week so I don't have to start school again until then. Besides, it'd be no fun without you there with me."

A cheesy smile grows on my face and I pop the green bean into my mouth. "Last week I thought I was the one who was going to have to go without you," I say.

"And then you decided to pick fights with people," Peeta reminds me.

I laugh and shake my head in denial. "Ah-ah that was self-defence. Ask Annie and Finch. I'd say ask Johanna but if I stabbed Cato with a knife it'd look like self-defence to her. Still, the point still stands, I was defending you, me and our honour. Too bad Snow didn't see it that way." I chew thoughtfully. "Are there ways of getting a principal fired?"

Peeta frowns. "I don't know," he says. "I suppose if enough students complained with viable evidence that said principal was corrupt it could work." He shrugs miserably. "Too bad there isn't enough of us to revolt against him."

I stop chewing. "Say that again."

"What?" asks Peeta, blinking like a deer caught in head lights. "Too bad there isn't enough of us to revolt against him?"

Revolt. That's what District High needs. A revolt. It'd be the only viable way to push Snow off his high horse. There's plenty of good reasons as to why he deserves to lose his position of power. Allowing a food chain to be fabricated among the students, solidifying a pecking order that has ruined many students' lives or greatly affected them. Favouring students involved with sports because the trophies make the school look good. Cutting a class that should be compulsory to all teenagers, causing idiots to spread rumours about how sex works, which resulted in Gropey Marvel Winters getting me fucking pregnant!

All we need are the students.

I look at Peeta, who is staring at me with concern. "Want to help me start a revolution?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for making Katniss pregnant. I want all issues facing teenagers today to be represented in this story, including teenage pregnancy.


	17. The King and His Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss thinks she must endure a night of loneliness on the night of homecoming as she is forced to stay at home because of her suspension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Big thank you to everyone still willing to read after the pregnancy announcement and who understood why I did it. It means a lot :-)
> 
> This is the final chapter but there will be a sequel called 'Broken Winged Birds who Cannot Fly' so keep an eye out :D

I stay away from Facebook for a while. There are a lot of Homecoming photos. Pictures from the Game and such. There's even pictures of Glimmer and Gale-who got together again after Madge dumped Gale's ass-with their homecoming king and queen crowns on. I'll admit, it does get to me a little. I had been a shoe-in for queen but I have a feeling that Snow pulled my name from the ballot when he suspended me. Clove tried to make me feel better by saying Glimmer probably came second to me but Snow wouldn't let my name get called.

She, Johanna, Annie and Finch all came to see me before they went to the dance. I appreciated it but it made me feel extremely jealous. Just seeing them in their gorgeous dresses depressed me. Then having to wave them off while I stayed at home . . . It was just awful.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

I shrug, tugging my blanket up to my chin and flicking the t.v off. "You have to go to work, mum. I'll be fine." Mum has to work the night shift but isn't keen on leaving me alone on what was supposed to be one of the most important nights of my life. Prim isn't even here; she's at a friend's house for the night.

"But Prim isn't here," says Mum with concern.

"It's okay. I'll be okay," I sigh.

Mum sits down on the sofa and gently touches my head. "Katniss, I know you've been down," she says. "Understandably too." I seal my lips shut and grumpily prop my face against my knee. "Life could be much worse though. I know it doesn't seem that way but you're surrounded by people who love you."

"Do you think dad would be disappointed in me?" I ask quietly.

Mum's eyes soften. She brushes my hair back from my face and sighs. "Oh, Katniss, of course not," she tells me. "Your father would be so, so proud of you. First of all for being so brave about your pregnancy. A lot of girls would have broken down and would already have been looking into abortion options."

"Well that was never an option for me," I grumble. I would never be able to live with myself if I aborted the baby. I would spend the rest of my life feeling like I committed murder. I understand that in particular circumstances why people would choose to do it but I just can't. I just . . . I just can't.

"Don't ever think that your father would be disappointed in you," Mum says firmly. "Your father would be extremely proud of you. The transition you've made this year alone is astonishing. It's been two months and yet you've changed yourself so much for the better."

Usually-and by usually I mean when I was an asshole-I would be glad for compliments. I'd reap them in with a self-satisfied grin and crave more. Now I'm sort of peevish about it. I shy away from Mum's praise, burying my face into my lap sheepishly. Mum pats my head and strokes my braid affectionately.

"You should call someone over," she says. "Anyone not at the dance?"

"Mum, it's the homecoming dance," I mutter sadly. "Everyone's there. Except Peeta . . ."

"Now that you're dating Peeta I don't know how I feel about you both being alone all night," Mum replies carefully.

I glance at her with a confused frown. "We won't do anything. Peeta's not like that."

"I know," says Mum, "but as your parent it's my job to protect you. I know that Peeta is a very respectable young man. I've been treating him alongside Paylor after all, and I've gotten to know him very well. However, if it ever came Primrose having a boy over the rules would be the same. I can't have her crying injustice when she gets to your age."

I shake my head. "My relationship with Peeta is going to go very slow. Can you honestly say that you can see Peeta letting me so much as take off his shirt at the moment?" I ask.

"He trusts you," Mum reminds me.

"Yeah but I have to be really careful," I remind her. "I'm not going to abuse that trust. Especially not just for sex. Besides, when we finally do it-whether it be next week or next year-I want it to be special for him. My first time was with Marvel and I'm still ashamed of it."

"Isn't this Marvel fella the baby's father?" Mum frowns.

"Yeah but Mum he's a dickhead," I say. "My first time was with a huge douchebag and it wasn't at all special. It was fast and stupid and with an idiot. I don't want that for Peeta. I know it will mean a lot to him when it does happen. I have to prove to him that I'm willing to make it that special for him. Because he deserves it . . ."

Mum smiles. "You see? Even now you're proving why we should be proud of you," she says. I'm surprised when she leans forward and hugs me. "Call Peeta over. I trust you."

"You trusted me before and look what happened," I whisper fearfully.

"Katniss," Mum says fixedly, "what have I told you time and time again? It wasn't your fault! All I ever wanted was for you to have sex safely and you did! You can't continually blame yourself for something that was completely out of your control!"

I want to believe Mum. I really, really do. I just can't shake the feeling that it's my fault for deciding to have sex with such a creep like Marvel Winters. I didn't even want to be with him that night. It was all a ploy to make Gale jealous. And that moment where I wanted to protect Peeta but failed miserably.

Mum kisses my cheek and says, "Call Peeta over. I don't want you alone tonight. It's not fair." She releases me from the hug and stands up. "You don't deserve it." When she reaches the door, she grabs the phone out of its landline charger and tosses it to me. "You're going to be fine, Katniss. We all are."

When she's gone, I only wait a millisecond before typing Peeta's number into the phone.

~xXx~

We've been experiencing atrocious weather recently. Just as Mum leaves, the rain starts. It slowly builds up over the next half an hour until the water is practically blasting the ground into dust. I worry about Peeta, who said he'd be over as soon as he could, but who also doesn't have a car and will have to walk across the District.

I worry about how I look. I've been in my pyjamas all week and quickly wash my hair over the shower cubicle. It's all a bit of a rush and I don't really have time to pick out a better outfit so I simply yank my best nightdress on (with a bra this time) and tie my wet hair back into its usual neat braid. While I'm fluttering around the living room and kitchen, worrying about Peeta and the rain, I think about the huge transition Mum talked about.

At the beginning of the year (aka two months ago) when Mr Abernathy told me that I had to get tutored by Peeta, I had been mortified. I embarrassed Peeta in front of his friends and the entire lunch hall just because I was so angry. I couldn't bear to call him by his first name, as if it would burn my tongue, so I called him Mellark instead. I hated the colour of his eyes just because I knew they were gorgeous and I didn't think it was fair. I would laugh about his weight and what he ate. I used him in a childish stalker plot that got him beat up constantly by Gale and robbed of any money he had. I pushed and prodded him and treated him like dirt ever since Freshman year.

Now I adore him. I will not abuse any of the help he provides me with any more. I will never embarrass him ever again. I use every and any opportunity to say his first name, maybe even more than that. His eyes are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'm going to help him beat his anorexia, not nurture it. I will not let Gale touch him ever again.

He means the world to me.

When Peeta does arrive, he's soaked through. He grins at me when I open the door, despite the fact he's sopping wet. "Oh god, come in," I say quickly, opening the door wider.

"Careful, it's raining out there," says Peeta.

I laugh. "Really? I didn't notice!" When I take his jacket from him, it's saturated with water that it practically unbalances me. "Didn't you have an umbrella or something?"

"The wind would have blown it right up anyway," Peeta shrugs. The rain has gone through his jacket and onto his clothes underneath.

"You're going to catch the cold if you stay in those wet clothes," I tell him. "Wait a second." I throw his jacket onto the radiator and lumber down to Mum and Dad's room which is at the bottom of the hall. I slide open their wardrobe and take one of Dad's old shirts off its hanger. When I come back to the living room, I hand it to Peeta. "Put that on."

"Should I be concerned over who owns this . . . ?" Peeta frowns.

I snort in amusement. "No, you fool, it's my dad's," I say.

Peeta looks at the shirt which I just handed him. "Katniss, I don't know if I should, since it's your dad's and all . . ."

"Peeta, trust me, if he were here right now, Dad would telling you to put it on too," I smile. I pat his wet shoulder teasingly. "Besides, I'm not going to catch your cold." I spin on my crutches and point down the hall. "The bathroom is the last door on the right. If you enter my parents' room at the very end you've gone too far."

While Peeta does this I suddenly realize that he may need pants too. I pass the bathroom on my way back to Mum and Dad's room and rap my knuckles against it. "I'm going to get you a pair of pyjama pants too." Heh, this is sort of turning into a pyjama party anyways. Good thing I dressed for it.

I find a pair of Dad's old pyjamas but they're huge. I fiddle with the tie at the waist and pull it as tight as it will go. When I return to the bathroom door, I don't hear anything on the other side. I knock again. "Everything okay in there?" No response. "Peeta?" When I touch the door handle I realize it's open. "Can I come in?" When I open the door only a tiny crack, it slams shut again so fast I jump backwards into Prim's door. Panic flushes through me. "Peeta, let me in or I'm going break the door down with my crutches!" Shit, what's he doing in there? Should I have just left him in his wet clothes? But he could have gotten sick! Has having to take his shirt off sparked something? He's not in front of me or anyone else. But then again it's become clear that his harshest critic is himself.

"Peeta!" I shout one last time.

Damn it.

I throw one crutch to the floor and lift the other up over my head like a dagger. It splinters the door on first impact and thankfully the hinges burst on the fourth smack. When I enter, I find him standing in front of the mirror in front of the sink, simply staring at himself in this transfixed manner. He's wearing my dad's shirt but it's too big for him. Literally so much so that it slipped right off his shoulders and has caught at his elbows.

"Hey," I say, wedging myself between the mirror and him. "Look at me. Stop looking at the mirror, look at me." I take his chin between my forefinger and thumb, moving his face down to me. His eyes are a shade darker and wide as saucers. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Why am I like this?" he asks back.

"Like what?" I ask back.

"Fucked up."

"You are not fucked up," I say firmly. I take the sleeves of dad's shirt and tug them up Peeta's shoulders, pinching it at the back and using my hair bauble to tie it tight. "Come on, get away from the mirror. I shouldn't have left you in here." I slip my hand into his and pull him away.

We walk together back to the living room. When we sit down, I take both his hands in mine and ask, "What's wrong? Has everything been okay?"

"I'm . . . I'm just . . . I've been a little off recently," Peeta mutters.

"How off?" I ask.

Peeta closes his eyes. "I think I'm relapsing, Katniss."

My heart sinks. I wrap my arms around his thin frame and bury my face into his neck. "Oh Peeta," I whisper fearfully. "Has something happened? You were doing so well. Has someone said something to you?"

"My mum hasn't been happy since I came back," Peeta tells me. "She's been more angry than usual. Been taking it out on me and Rye."

I grind my teeth together. "Has she been saying things to you, Peeta?"

"No . . ."

"Peeta"-

"Katniss," Peeta says back. "If I relapse, I'm going to go back to hospital. I want to go back as much as you want me to. But I can't help looking in the mirror and seeing this fat kid who thinks he has a chance of holding down a relationship."

"You can hold down a relationship, Peeta. I'm not going anywhere," I say. "Hospital or not. Relapse or not. I'm going to stay with you. I have complete faith in your recovery, whether it takes the rest of this year or the rest of your life. I intend to be there for you. Just . . . don't listen to your mother, if she does say anything to you."

"I'm damaged as hell, Katniss. You're better off being with someone who can look after you and not have it be the other way around," Peeta insists.

"We're going to look after each other, that's how relationships work," I contradict.

"I'm not worth the trouble."

I roll my eyes and squeeze my arms tight around his neck. "Do you think if you weren't worth it then I'd still be here? I don't fuck around anymore. You're worth all of my time."

"I don't want to go back to the hospital, Katniss." He sounds so scared it makes my heart lurch. I lean back and look him dead in the eyes, to show him how serious I am. The beautiful baby blue almost makes me lose my train of thought, threatens me to get lost in them, but I hold steady and firm.

"You are going to beat this," I say solidly. "Whether you have to go back to the hospital for a little bit or not. You just have to learn to control it and stop letting it control you." My hands slide up onto his shoulders, gripping them tight. Like if I don't he's going to disappear from right in front of me.

"I want to believe you," Peeta tells me. "I really, really do. But there's always this voice at the back of my head saying that you're just being nice. You just don't want to say to my face that I am fat and that I should be losing weight."

I clench my jaw. The idea of that irritable little bastard of a voice feeding Peeta lies makes my blood boil. "Well, why don't you believe this?" I push up and gently press my lips against his.

The only way I can describe kissing Peeta is like how a fire grows into an inferno. It starts of small. As a tiny spark in my gut that builds and builds and builds into this raging fire. There's only one way for that fire to be quenched and it's unfortunately the one thing I promised myself I wouldn't do until Peeta was ready. And I stand by that.

The hands on his shoulders move up to frame his face. I feel his own hands on my waist, holding tight as if he too believes I may disappear. His mouth is soft against mine and impossibly gentle. He is careful and loving in how he kisses me. It almost upsets me. I don't deserve any of this. Especially not his love and acceptance. I won't throw it away because what I have is precious. The only thing that matters besides my family is this man with me right now. And this moment. With both of us here. Together.

I lean back and heave myself up with the crutch that I didn't leave lying on the floor outside the bathroom. Peeta watches me with concern and I jerk my head to the left. "Come on," I say, taking his hand and giving him a tug of encouragement. Peeta gets up and supports me as I lumber to the space behind the sofa. The massive piece of floor where there's nothing but a direct passageway to my kitchen.

I leave my crutch against the back of the sofa and hold onto both of Peeta's arms, hoping he has the strength to support me. "Even though we can't go to the dance, it doesn't mean Snow can stop us from physically dancing," I say.

Peeta laughs. "Do you think you have the strength for it?" he asks.

"It's more a question of do you have the strength to support me?" I ask back.

Peeta steadies his grip on my hand and puts the other on my hip. I wind an arm around his waist and press my face against his chest. "Yeah, I think I've got it," he says quietly. We don't really move. That's sort of impossible with both our physical inabilities taken into account but even just standing here, with Peeta, holding him and having him hold me, is the best feeling in the world.

"We would have been an awesome king and queen," I say.

"You would have been queen but I doubt very highly that I would have been a king of any sort. Especially since my name wasn't even part of the ballot," Peeta replies.

"You don't need to have your name in the ballot," I answer defiantly. "You're my king."

Peeta smiles and presses his chin against the top of my head. I close my eyes and absorb his warmth. The way his thin body moves against mine, how his fingers threads so perfectly through mine, how he smells of cinnamon and musk, how even though he isn't strong enough to hold my entire weight or carry me like the other guys do he is my king and my boyfriend and my man. My smart, sexy, beautiful man. I absorb all of this because eventually this moment will end, even though I don't want it to, because nothing is infinite, not even the memories we will leave behind.

There's a knock on my door. It's so sudden that Peeta and I jump in surprise. I hadn't been expecting any visitors. Peeta reaches over and hands me my crutch and I answer the door.

Clove, Johanna, Annie and Finch stand on the doorstep, looking exactly the way they did when they had come to see me before the dance. Johanna bustles through first, the shawl which she used as a canopy over her head soaked through. "The dance sucks!" she declares. "It's all chock-a-block with jocks and cheerleaders dancing and snogging and just being boring, you know?"

Johanna spins around and almost bumps right into Peeta. Her eyes go wide and she immediately grabs him into a hug. "Oh god, you're back," she breathed.

Clove and Finch both run in to greet Peeta as well, trailing water from the rain and not seeming to care. I grin at how relieved and excited they are that he's out of hospital. He may not have an abundance of friends but the few Peeta had were genuine and that was all a person could ask for.

I notice that Annie hangs back. I limp closer to the door. Annie is notorious for being shy so I wonder if she's weary of just barging in. "You're welcome to come in," I tell her.

Annie bites her lip and brushes her hair back from her face nervously. My eyes catch her hand, which is reached behind her and holding onto something. She steps to the side and I realize its Finnick. Our eyes lock. Sea green on smoke grey. An understanding passes between us both. Finnick the jock and Katniss the cheerleader. We both know we were wrong. It took finding someone we deeply care about to realize this.

"Everdeen," Finnick says curtly.

"Odair," I reply.

Annie chews on her fingernails anxiously. I touch her shoulder and step aside from the door. "You're both welcome," I say.

Relief rushes through Annie and she lets go of Finnick to run to Peeta as well. She hugs him tight and joins the Q&A that has taken place in my hallway. Finnick shuts the front door so the heat doesn't get out and stands beside me. "You know that if you really love her you'll have to accept the consequences sooner and later," I tell him. "People will find out and you can't protect your reputation forever."

"I am fully aware of that," Finnick replies. I glance at his profile and realize, with a tug, that his eyes won't leave Annie for a second. "Your outburst in the cafeteria . . . the fact that you were so ready to accept what would come of you admitting that you were dating Mellark . . . it made me realize that I can't hide from this. I love Annie and I want the world to know that. I just fear what is going to come of it."

"Do you think Cato and Gale will turn away from you?"

"I know they will. And once they do, the rest of the team will. And once the rest of the team do, Snow will do the same." Finnick runs his fingers through his hair. "If Snow turns his back on me-like he did to you, Katniss-that's my future gone. Poof, just like that."

"I doubt it's that bad," I deny.

"Katniss, I need a football scholarship. If Snow decides that I'm a waste of space, he'll make sure that I get benched during the last game of the season. The game the scout will be attending," Finnick says glumly. "My future rests in the hands of a corrupt man."

I stare at my feet. At Peeta's signature which rests square in the middle of my cast. What would he say in this situation? I glance up at him. Finch is explaining in extreme detail how Marvel got caught spiking the punch by Mrs Lyme. The funny thing is actually that he got caught by Mrs Lyme in particular because if it had been Snow he probably would have let it slide. Peeta's laughing and so are the other girls. Clove has her arm around him, supporting his weight with her own because standing for too long with a body as weak as his is difficult.

"Peeta and I were going to try something," I tell Finnick. "When we both return to school next week. We want to try and rile the school up against Snow."

Finnick squints at me. "Do you think that would work?" he asks.

"I don't know," I admit. "But we can't be the only people unhappy with how the system has turned out. There has to be more. We just need to find and encourage them to speak up."

"How do you plan to do that?" asks Finnick.

I shrug. "I don't know yet. It would greatly help to have your support on our side," I tell him.

Finnick's eyes still haven't left Annie, who is standing beside Johanna fiddling with her fingers and laughing as Finch describes how Lyme was so angry that the vein in her forehead had a vein in its forehead. "I would do anything for her," he tells me. "If it will make Annie happier and may ultimately result in me being able to shout from the rooftops that I intend to marry her someday then I'm in."

I smile and nod. "You know, I think it's amazing that it took us so long to realize that something like this had to be done," I say.

Finnick sighs. "Tell me about it."

"But it's okay because now we know. Now we're willing to commit to becoming better people."

For the first time since he entered the house, Finnick looks at me. His eyes hold a deeper sadness I never noticed until now. The weight of a man who can't bear the idea of losing the girl he loves. I never would have saw it before now. Before I understood what it meant to love someone who everyone will judge me for. Now, however, I don't care. If the students of District High don't want me to date Peeta then they can stick it because it's none of their business.

"Come on," I say. "Let's go join the party."

Finnick smiles and hooks his arm into my spare one. He join the others in the hallway, who are still laughing at Finch's account of Marvel's Homecoming slip up. When we reach the ground, Finnick shakes Peeta's hand. "Hey man, you're looking good," he says.

"You're not looking too bad yourself," Peeta replies with a smile.

I glance at Annie, whose eyes are glistening with relieved tears. She gravitates to Finnick, who accepts her into a warm embrace. I find myself also moving towards Peeta naturally and he wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a warm squeeze. After Finch finishes her story, Johanna immediately jumps in, announcing that she also nicked Gale's homecoming crown.

When no one believes her, she produces it from her bag with an exaggerated, "Ta-da!"

My eyes zone in on the crown. "You didn't!" I still deny.

"I did!" Johanna says, waving the crown in my face.

"But how?!" Clove exclaims.

"Gale and Glimmer were committing the act of penetration in the backseat of Cato's car. Glimmer still had her silly frilly tiara on but Gale left his on the trunk of the car. I nicked it while Annie was in the bathroom," Johanna shrugs. She passes it to me and grins. I know what she wants me to do. And I'm more than happy to do it.

I turn in Peeta's arms and reverently put the crown on his head. "I told you that you were a king," I tease.

Peeta smiles and tips the crown up so it doesn't fall in his eyes. "Only if you're my queen," he answers.

I kiss him, not caring that we have company. When I pull away, everyone has started conversation again like Johanna hadn't announced that she stole Gale's crown. Because it just fits so naturally for us to have justice for once. For someone who actually deserves to have the crown to wear it.

As Clove begins to animate with Finch how Gale will react when he realizes that his crown is gone, my heart skips a beat in excitement.

A spark has been lit. The real question now is will it ignite?

**Author's Note:**

> I know Katniss is a little hard to swallow right now but bear with her, she's about to go on a life changing journey. God, that sounds cheesy but it's true!


End file.
